Fate/Caótica (IC Thread)

[Kanzaris]

Chapter One: Soldier's Soul


"Dammit!"

Emilio Montagne slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. Fuming, he rested his head on the cool concrete. It was useless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find an explanation for Prince's death. There should've been warning signs, but he couldn't remember anything. All he could recall was the bullets flying through the air, piercing the fuselage, the missiles cutting through the clouds en route to taking his wingman...his best friend...out of this world.

He was going to die. He'd accepted this already. A killer - a traitor - couldn't expect anything else. But it still ached, not knowing what his mistake had been. Now that they'd taken his wings away, he could've almost looked at his upcoming execution as a blessing, if not for that lingering doubt.

"You look busy," said a strong, deep male voice from beyond his prison cell. "Should I come back later?"

When he turned around, he found a strange man standing before him. He was tall, bald as an egg except for a long, unkempt beard, and old - very old. And he was a priest - the cassock he was wearing left no doubt about it.

"I guess it’s time then," Emilio muttered to himself as he sat down on his bed. "What do you want? You here to give me the last rites?"

The priest's mouth curled up into a smile. "Hardly. If you are so eager to leave this mortal coil, I will oblige, but I've come here to discuss something else with you. Tell me, how grim do your prospects appear to you?"

"Tch. Is this a joke? Any time now, they'll take me to the firing squad. What do you think?"

If the priest was incensed by his coarse manners, he didn't let it show. Instead, he simply nodded. "Good. You are aware of the gravity of your situation, then. Tell me, Emilio Montagne - what would you do for a chance to set things right? A chance to fly again?"

"What does it matter? It's a pipe dream."

"Humor me for a moment, then," the priest insisted. "What do you have to lose from giving some thought to this matter? Perhaps you'll find a new insight through it."

He should've told the old man to piss off, but Emilio was tired. Tired of being cooped up in a tiny, claustrophobic cell that barely fit him. Tired of going over and over the incident without understanding anything. Tired of battling off that sinking feeling that his time was up and soon it'd all be over for him. So instead, he focused on the question, and thought deeply about it.

"What I'd do? Anything. If I knew how I'd gotten my best friend killed and I got to fly again, I could die with no regrets."

"Anything? Even killing another person? Perhaps an innocent?"

"I'm already a murderer," the former flight lieutenant muttered darkly. Saying it out loud made his chest ache with pain. His sworn brother was gone, and it was all because of him. Nothing could wash away that sin anymore. "What's one more?"

"Hmm. There is some truth to that, I suppose..." the priest murmured, thoughtfully. "What if I told you there is a way to achieve those things that you desire?"

"Bullshit."

"So you would think - and nothing less than strong evidence will convince you." A crooked smile crossed the priest's face. "In that case...behold."


"What do you...GUH!"

Suddenly his left hand was on fire. Pain clouded his vision, blinding him for a few moments. When he recovered enough to look, Emilio saw the wound he now bore...no, not a wound, though it was bright red like one — a tattoo, or something quite like it, in the shape of a thin bird with a single wing of three feathers, covering the palm of his left hand.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, out of breath. "Is this your work?"

"Not at all. This is the proof of your selection, which no one can control. You have been chosen to participate in a magical ritual which we know as the Holy Grail War."

"Don't screw with me. Magic isn't—"

"Real? Then how do you explain that mark on your hand? A drug-induced hallucination? Perhaps an optical illusion crafted by an accomplice?" The priest retorted, extending his arms forward so the flight lieutenant could see his open hands. "You shouldn't be so stubborn. We have little time to waste, and even a basic explanation would be far too complicated for you -- just accept that there is more to the world than you know. Do you truly wish to continue this tedious argument any longer?"

"Tch...fine. So what are you here for, anyway?"

"Put simply, you are scheduled to participate in a battle to the death between seven ordinary men and women. Each of you will be assisted by a hero of legend - and the one who defeats all the others will be able to make a wish that will invariably come true. I am here to ensure you will have your chance." Reaching into his habit, the priest took out two pieces of paper, covered in fine script, and offered them to him through the bars. Once they were firmly in Emilio's grasp, he turned to go.


"Someone will come here to break you out very soon. If you're still uncertain, ask them if they brought the baby’s tooth with them. Once you've reached a safehouse, follow these instructions and take your place as one of the Masters of this war." Looking over his shoulder, the priest smirked one last time. "Ah, and one last thing. When the time comes, remember to choose right."

As the priest walked away, Emilio couldn’t help but wonder, what the hell did he mean by that? Half of what he'd said was nonsense. Magic? Legendary heroes? Wishes? Crazy stuff. He should’ve dismissed it out of hand, but that priest’s words weren’t like the ramblings of a madman. He acted like a man with purpose, someone who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

What was his deal anyway? Why care about a murderer on death row? There had to be hundreds of people out there better suited for this than him. If — and this was a big if — magic was real, why not go find a magician instead? He probably wasn’t crazy, but he definitely was deluded. Yes, it had to be that. Suddenly, things started to make more sense.


...But still…

...What if he wasn’t? A wish that would invariably come true… that was what it’d take to get his wings back. There was no chance the army would take him in again after what he’d done, after all - and neither would anyone else. Sure would be nice to be able to fix the world with a thought and a snap of his fingers…

Settling back down on his bed, Emilio stared at the ceiling and kept thinking, unsure what to believe. Hours later, a soldier wearing a balaclava approached and began fumbling with the keys to his cell.


"Lieutenant! I'm sorry it took so long to get here! I had to knock out one of the guards and take his stuff, and—"

That voice was unmistakable. "Fang? What are you doing here?"

The mask came off, revealing the eager face of a young pilot he was intimately familiar with. "Only what I'm supposed to. I'm here to set you free!" Without a moment's pause, she began fiddling with the lock, trying out keys from a large keychain.

"Cut it out! You've got no idea of the consequences of what you’re doing. Leave me alone before you get caught!"

"That just means we need to move fast. Don't worry, I'll get you out of there in a second!"

"Don't you understand?" he growled. "Assisting a war criminal makes you a traitor! You're way out of your league here, kid. Go home already!"

"I don't care!" She shouted, looking at him with burning eyes. "That court martial was a sham! I know you didn't kill Prince, sir! If you stay here, you'll get executed and I can't let that happen! We've got to prove you're innocent, and if that means becoming a criminal too, then so be it!"

As Emilio stared at her, he began to feel the pain of a mounting headache. Only someone who'd taken so gleefully to a nickname that stood as an acronym for 'Fuck, Another New Guy' would be so stupid as to stick her neck out for a killer on death row, but there was no dissuading Fang when she decided to do something. That kind of tenacity was why she'd survived piloting school with him as her instructor.

"C'mon, sir!" She said, unlocking the door and stepping into the cell, where she began taking off the stolen uniform she'd been wearing. "We need to get you disguised and out of here! It's just a matter of time before someone notices!"

His left hand went to his pocket, where his dog tags were - the only thing he'd been allowed to keep after being imprisoned, by some twist of fate. Was this what that old geezer had been talking about? Coupled with that tattoo that had popped up on his left hand, it was a couple coincidences too many for him to just handwave away, but not quite enough to really start believing in something as silly as magic. But maybe there was one way to make sure.

"Hey, Fang" he called out, as she finished taking off the disguise, leaving only that bomber jacket that she never took off. "Did you bring the baby's tooth with you?"

"What?" she gasped, taken aback. "Yeah, I've got it right here," she said, pointing at the necklace around her neck, bearing not jewelry, but a tiny, chipped tooth. "I wouldn't even think about trying this without my lucky charm. But why do you ask?"

"Nothing. Just curious." Maybe he really was right and there was more to the world than he thought. And if that was the case...

"Grail War, huh..." he murmured, staring at the dog tags in the palm of his hand, and the one-winged bird beside them. He clenched it into a fist, trapping the bird in its cage. "Fine. If it's for the sake of getting my wings back, I'll play your game."

---

Fang's apartment was near the edge of town, not far off from the military base where Emilio had been imprisoned. Slipping out unnoticed had been touch-and-go for a while, but after making it to the courtyard with the aid of disguises, hijacking one of the supply trucks had made the rest smooth sailing.

"Almost there, c'mon!" she urged him on from the top of the fire escape he was climbing, and slipped in through a window. He followed her soon after, into some very, very pink sleeping quarters.

"Are those stuffed animals?" He asked, staring at a small mountain of toys piled up in a corner.

"W-what's wrong with them?!" she retorted, her face flushed. "They're cute and really warm in winter!"

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with them," he said, collapsing onto the (rather lacey) bed. "So we're safe here then?"

"Yeah! At least for a couple days. They won't think to come looking. I left a couple clues about a terrorist organization picking you up!" She said, puffing up her chest proudly.

"You what?! No, you know what, never mind. I don't wanna know." If he started asking questions now, the headaches would never stop. Better to stay focused. "You got chalk and a large room here? There's something I need to take care of."

"Yeah, my living room," Fang said, nodding. "This way!"

Emilio had had a chance to peruse the old man's instructions on the way to the apartment, and they'd been very clear. The ritual only needed four things: a summoning circle, a drop of blood to activate it once it had been completed, a precious item to act as a catalyst, and an invocation to bring it all together. Supposedly, almost any nonsense could work as an invocation - the key was that "it must come from the heart". What that meant, he wasn't sure about, but it couldn't hurt to give it a try. Fang looked on as he drew the circle, obviously curious, but the look on his face kept her from asking questions. Soon it was done, exactly as the diagram in the papers had specified. Putting a nail against the underside of his thumb, Emilio pressed until the skin ruptured, covering it with crimson, and pressed it against the edge of the circle. It lit up, emitting an ominous red light that ebbed and grew in pulses - exactly at the same rhythm as the now-energized brand in his left palm.

“W-whoa! It lit up!” Fang exclaimed. She’d stuck around to watch the procedures with a look of confusion on her face. She hadn’t said anything before, clearly noticing how serious a matter this was for the Lieutenant, but this was a little too much for her.

“I’ll explain it later,” he promised. “But I need you to stay quiet for now. I swear I’m going somewhere with this, though.”

Fang swallowed. “A-alright, sir. I won’t say a word.”

That was two of the conditions met then. That just left the catalyst and the summoning. He didn't have anything worth a damn on him right now, and he couldn't ask Fang to offer up an item either. The only thing he had besides the clothes on his back were his dog tags.

[EMILIO MONTAGNE
077-615-269
O NEGATIVE
NO PREFERENCE
CONCORDIAN AIR FORCES]

He could still remember the day he'd gotten them, alongside Prince. He'd tried not to cry -- and failed miserably. His sworn brother had laughed at him and then pulled him in for a bonecrushing hug. It had been the happiest day of his life. To anyone else, they were nothing more than garbage, but to him, these two pieces of tin were precious beyond compare. Maybe it was worth a shot.

Carefully, he placed them at the center of the circle and stood up. Now, all that was left to do was perform the summons.

Where to start though? He didn't know anything about magic, what the 'right words' could be. He racked his brains, trying to come up with something, but nothing came to mind. In the end, he gave up. It was probably hopeless, but the best way to summon a hero would be by speaking in the only way he knew how.

"Listen to me," he began, but stopped suddenly. His left palm - no, his whole body - was burning, and the air hummed faintly with power. In spite of his mundane life, Emilio was sure: there was magic in the air now, and his next few words would determine his future.

Better choose carefully.

"...Whoever you are, I need your power. Power to grant me the strength to win this war, to find the truth."

The circle's light shifted from red to white, like hot metal. In his mind's eye, he could see an intricate clockwork mechanism being constructed, growing more complex by the second, threatening to encompass, and comprehend, everything.

"I can't do this by myself. Maybe my wish is selfish, but it's mine and mine alone." His hands clenched into fists.

This is the moment. Now or never.

"I've flown crimson skies and been trapped in the pits. I've been a hero and lost everything. I've been through hell, and I'm not staying there any longer!"

He hadn't meant to, but he could not keep himself from screaming those words. The wounds opened, bleeding grief and guilt until there was only iron determination left.

"C'mon, hero of legend. Let’s fly out of hell together!"

There was a blinding flash of light, and a gale of wind rocked the living room, filling it with the sounds of objects flying. And it could've been an illusion or a hallucination, but for just a moment, Emilio could have sworn he heard the quiet whistling of a flute.

“Lieutenant, sir!” Fang called out, unable to see anything. “What’s happen— Kyahh?!” she cried out in shock, as a loose piece of paper slammed against her face, courtesy of the wind.

Emilio blinked, trying to get rid of the black spots in his vision. Slowly, things became clear once again.

There in the middle of the circle stood a man clad in military fatigues, clutching his dog tags in his hand and studying them carefully. He had parted blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and when he noticed Emilio's attention was on him, he stared back, utterly unafraid.

"He's so cool..." Fang whispered, looking at the new arrival with starry eyes. The man in question paid her no mind, however. He seemed to be sizing Emilio up, running complex calculations within his head.

"A soldier, huh...haven't seen one of those in a while." He threw the tags back at Emilio, who caught them in mid-air. That got a curt, approving nod out of him.

"Nice reflexes. Call me Assassin. Who are you?"

"The name's Emilio. Don’t have one of your own?"

Assassin crossed his arms. "In this kind of fight, names are a weakness. You're a pilot, aren't you? Don't you have a callsign of some sort?"

Emilio pursed his lips for a moment. "...Yeah. It's Killer."

"Killer, huh. I see. I'll be your Servant for this war, then.” He offered Emilio his hand. “So let me ask you something, Killer..."

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Chapter Two: The Greatest Teacher


The Avalon Park Art & History Museum was one of the newer buildings in the City. It had been erected less than a decade ago, and every piece of it still felt fresh to the touch and the eyes. Perfect paint, pleasant lighting, a harmonious arrangement of each of its exhibits…

...Truly, it could rightly be called a marvel of modern historical preservation.

David Norbert had been skeptical when he'd discovered the golden gift ticket inviting him to a private night-until-dawn visit in his mail, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to discover just how interesting the museum could really be. It would have taken countless hours to begin to appreciate all the priceless, wondrous historical artifacts contained therein -- especially the marquee collection, dug out of an archaeological site less than a month ago. 'Legends of Greece', it was called, and it consisted of tapestries, jars, murals and more, all depicting the heroic exploits of its mythical heroes. It was all quite fascinating, but...

A long sigh escaped David's lips. It was just so lonely! He'd looked it up -- the Lea Mónde was very popular, constantly brimming with visitors, and yet, right now, it was just him. Not even the security staff had stayed to accompany him, opening the doors for him and handing him a key with a warning to return it when he was done for the night. He was all alone. Same as he'd always been.

He tried to focus on the exhibits, but all it did was make him feel worse. Here were the heroes of legend, the people who'd left their indelible mark upon the world. What had he done? Would anyone even care if he disappeared? It was a depressing thought. He could die right now and the only person who'd notice would be his landlord when the time came to pay the rent.

"What do you have that I don't?" He muttered, staring at the figures adorning a vase. "How did you find it? I bet you had guidance. Everyone knew you were destined for greatness. Well, I'm not. I'm just a nobody. No one worthy of notice," he continued, bitterly.

"You didn't earn what you had. You're all children of kings and gods. You couldn't help but succeed! How is that fair? Are some people supposed to change the world while everyone else watches from the sidelines?"

The exhibits could not answer. A fresco of brave Achilles fighting Hector of Troy stared at him blankly, as though the heroes couldn’t understand his words.

He took a moment to breathe, panting. “What’s gotten into me?” He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry. Maybe he'd been holding it in for too long. Now, it felt like he was drowning in misery, and he wouldn’t be able to find any relief unless he let it out.

"Why am I even talking to you? It's not like you're the real deal. You're just the record of their deeds, memories of people who are dust and bones. They’re eternal because of you, and that’s something no one today can have anymore." The strange mark on the back of his left hand burned, but he paid it no mind. It had appeared a couple days ago and he hadn't been able to remove it, no matter what products he’d used or how hard he’d scrubbed it clean. Unable to change yet another thing out of his control, he’d just sighed and moved on.

"I bet you'd laugh at us if you were here. Laugh at me. 'You're powerless! You're worthless! You're weak! Why haven't you died already?'"

Why hadn't he? It would be so easy to cease this meandering existence. People blinded themselves to the truth, but instruments of violence were everywhere. Here was a rusted sword that had still kept its edge, hidden behind a fragile glass pane. There, a set of long stairs anyone could jump off at a fatal angle. All he had to do was make his decision and it could all be over. So what was it that kept him going, truly?

...

...

...



"...That's what you'd want, isn't it," he murmured, so quietly he couldn't be sure if he'd actually said it out loud or it had just been a thought chained within his head. In the distance, he could hear thunder cracking.


"Leave everything to the born winners, the people predestined for victory. Everyone else can go home. Well, I refuse to do it. There's got to be a way for someone who's not meant for anything to become someone, and I'll find it. I won't stay on the sidelines forever. There's got to be a way!"

The quiet murmur of the raindrops falling outside was the only response. He lowered his head.

"I've got what it takes. I've got it..." Pathetic. He was just trying to console himself now.

"All I need is one chance to prove it. Please… just one chance..."

A thunderclap rang out, so loud it made the world shake and the glass cases tingle in alarm. Taken aback, David flinched and fell down to the ground, scraping his knees. As he tried to stand up, however, he heard a voice.

"Unfit, unprepared and unaware of the consequences of his actions. It must be the Fates' idea of a joke to pair me with such a poor anchor."

Standing in the center of the room was a woman with dark hair and glistening skin the colour of bronze. She was clad in ancient armor that mixed a breastplate, a helmet and a pure white robe, and her blue eyes shone with a faint light that only served to enhance her already regal bearing further. She bore a round shield in her left hand, and long spear in her right - and that spear was, at the moment, pointed straight at him.

"My arrival marks the beginning of the war, and from now on, there will be no time to waste." She tilted her head, gesturing towards the exit. "Come with me."

"But… I… how did you get here? What is this? Just who are you?" A hundred questions began flowing out of his mouth, but the woman cut them off with her shield hand.

"I am the Servant Lancer, and I suffer fools and idle men poorly." She fulminated him with a glare so contemptuous it made him shiver. It left no doubt as to who it was she was thinking of.

"If you do not wish to incur my wrath, answer me this, manling..."

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Chapter Three: Fate Forged In Steel


In Sophita Einzbern’s opinion, the dwelling they'd acquired for their representative in the Holy Grail War did not reflect their opulence. It was not shabby - far from it, their pride as a noble magical family would not allow such a thing - but neither was the old townhouse truly luxurious. She had seen much better than its three floors had to offer - though few that were quite so clean, now that she was through with it. She wouldn't have been able to proceed with the ritual otherwise. Unlike some of the competitors she would surely encounter soon, she took pride in excelling at the little details.

...She was stalling. How shameful. She'd tried to keep her anxiety in check, but her self-control was not as perfect as she'd thought. The cavalry saber the family had acquired for her sat atop the dinner table, dominating it as a prized heirloom should, yet she could not approach it. Not yet.


Standing beside the head's chair, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. The last few months had been surreal. Her time with Mistress Emilia had been a blessed respite, but some part of her had known, from the beginning, that it could not last. A homunculus servant could not expect kindness from mages, nor fairness. Could not expect...

"No," she breathed out. Certain thoughts were like daggers, waiting to embed themselves into her mind and dull her senses. She would not allow them to slip past her guard. Her enemies would be clever, powerful and monstrous. In a stand-up fight, she would be hopelessly outmatched. But she knew them - she had belonged to them, once, and she would not be their prey.

She drew her rapier from the sheath on her waist and rested her head on the flat the blade, letting her worries bleed into it, receiving the sword’s cool resolve in turn. It was her weapon and her strength. So long as it was still in hand, she could keep her fears at bay. With this blade, she would pierce the darkness within the hearts of her opponents. With it, she would find her wish.

She was ready. All her doubt had faded away. Approaching the saber with a determined step, she seized it and took it to the attic, where the outline of her magic circle had been carved. It was not yet complete, however - some finishing touches were required.

Resting the saber on a nearby desk, she picked up a bottle of old Einzbern whisky and drew her rapier once again. Uncorking the bottle carefully, she spilled its contents onto the rapier, not letting a single drop fall off the blade. Then, faster than the eye could see, she ran the tip along the wooden floor, the friction igniting a flame across the entire blade. It was a meager thing, frail and transient - she would have to make the most of it before it faded away.

One stroke. A thin line split the circle at the middle in two halves.

Two strokes. Another joined it, drawing a cross.

Three strokes, this last one complex and twisting. The Einzbern family seal, entwined with the seal of Yggdmillennia, at the center of the circle, each and every line aflame.

One spin. She twirled in place, replacing the bottle back on its desk and drawing the cavalry saber in one smooth motion. Jump. Turn 360 degrees vertically in mid air. Each motion was part of a ritual, each step activating a magic circuit, each instant helping the dancer become the dance.

She landed gracefully on her feet and knelt down. Then, the saber came down, splitting the twin seals in half. Her summons rang out, calling beyond space and time:

“Steel and gold are the pathway to the Origin. Flame and truthful spirits form the foundations. The tree of a thousand realms and the millennial miracle-maker are my ancestors.”

Every Magic Circuit within her body activated. A wind that came from everywhere and nowhere began to howl as mana was absorbed from the environment, filling the circuits to their limits and further beyond.

“Bonds of ice and crimson form the wall. The gates in the four directions close. Flowing from the crown, the power fills the myriad roads that lead to the kingdom.”

She closed her eyes and focused. Uncontainable power bent to her will and began traversing her body, cleansing it of all impurities, leaving behind nothing but a singular purpose.

“Flow (ennoble). Flow (enkindle). Flow (enhance). Flow (encourage). Flow (enlighten).
Fivefold repetitions, here unto eternity.”

She couldn’t hold on much longer. Her defective circuits were already prepared to give out. Electrical spasms rocked her body, yet she continued, undeterred.

“Slash and sever, once filled.
――――This is my proclamation.”


She clung to the saber tightly, ignoring the pain and the heat of the flames. Worldly concerns were immaterial. Weaknesses were nothing more than distractions.

“Entrust yourself to me. I leave my future within your sword.
By the covenant of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.
Here is my oath. I am judgment come to the world of the dead. I am the salvation from the world of the dead.”

She could see a bridge laid between her soul and a distant power. The gateway of the summoning had been opened. Now, all that was needed was one final invitation, to bring a spirit forth.

“O keeper of the balance, beyond elysian eternities, clad in three words of power, arrive to the circle of protection———!”

There was a blinding flash of light. The heat, the pain, the magic, all went out at once. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, Sophita felt another hand above hers, clutching the blade.

Before her was a man wearing an old-fashioned military uniform of blue, white and gold, the kind that would have been reserved for the most official of occasions in the modern age. They stood together as one, and as she let go of the saber, he took out a handkerchief and ran it through the blade before putting it in the sheath hanging from the right side of his waist.

“Servant Saber,” he proclaimed, taking a deep bow at the waist. As he stood straight once more, he broke into a small, pleased smile.

“This is a fortunate beginning. It’ll be a pleasure to fight alongside another student of the sword.”

She was not supposed to treat her Servant with deference, but Sophita could not keep herself from returning the bow — a fair bit more gracefully than him, too. Her instincts as a servant were strong -- and not so easily controlled.

“I am Sophita, of clan Einzbern...” She was about to say more, but her back erupted with burning pain, forcing her to double over. It disappeared quickly, but not quickly enough to keep Saber from noticing.

“Pardon me. Are you—” he began, taking a step forward, but then stopped, noticing the brand that now covered the space between her shoulder blades — the Command Seal. “Ah. Of course. I trust all is well now?” Though the concern was clear on his face, he maintained a respectful distance. He was worried, she realized, but not surprised.

How undignified. Not five minutes had passed, and she had already shown signs of weakness. Had she learned nothing from the masters she’d served? “Of course,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Is there something you want to say?”

Saber nodded. “Only one thing. Forgive my lack of manners, but we do not have much time. In war, speed and decisiveness are of the essence. We must prepare our battle plans and define our objectives post-haste. With your permission, I would like to begin immediately... but first, Miss Sophita, there is one question I must ask you...”

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Chapter Four: Come Together


The City had many beautiful buildings, but the Tower of Rose took the cake. It was impossible to miss, really - its 300 meter structure dominated the city skyline with room to spare no matter where one went, and its structure was something out of the dreams of a genius or a madman. A relatively lithe set of lower floors gave way to gradually expanding stories, surrounded by a seemingly infinite ramp that rose up in a gentle spiral all around it, like a wrapping keeping the edifice's expansion contained. It continued up until the highest floors, where the structure reached its apex, unraveling into she shape of a blooming rose, crowned by a smaller set of final floors that rose up towards the heavens in the shape of a pistile. It was this luxurious location, the Dominion Suite, that was Ariel Labelle's destination as soon as she got off the plane that had taken her to the City.

A very fancy choice for an HQ. They really spared no expense, she thought, as she got into the central elevator and dialed in the number of the topmost floor in the digital keypad that engaged the transport. Not only was this place reserved for the richest and powerful people on earth, the air was alive with mana. There was no mistaking this feeling - it must have been erected atop a powerful confluence of leylines. That her patron had managed to secure such a powerful site before the war had even begun was reassuring - and yet, at the same time, it made her anxious. It was a strong reminder of how many options the Barthomeloi family had at its disposal, and how expendable she truly was.

That's what they think, at any rate, she thought, and shrugged. It's not gonna turn out that way.


The view from the steel-glass elevator was mesmerizing. So many bright lights… like staring at a gem collage. She made a mental note of the image and committed it to memory. A beautiful design for a necklace could be wrung out of this view, she was sure of it.

And not everyone can see this. It takes a trained eye for beauty to spot inspiration when it comes to you!

...How much is that gonna be worth in this fight though? Feels like everything I've learned up to this point was for the wrong things. Grandmother… you said the secret to strength is not in being, but seeming. Will that help me in a struggle of life and death?


The door chimed musically as it slid open behind her. When Ariel turned around, she beheld a room of such immaculate whiteness, she needed a moment to make sure all the color had not simply been drained out of it. She couldn't have been sure if not for the open door in the far right corner, through which golden light streamed through...and music.

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liDEV5vpXcs

Hmph. Do they really need to be so tacky? she wondered, as she crossed the room and threw the door open. Better to get this charade over and done with as soon as possible.

The room beyond was a spacious library, furnished in rich reds and golds. The music was coming from a vinyl player at the center of the room, resting atop a small table. Beside it was an ornate chair, and resting on it was a tanned, muscular man in a stylish button-up black and white suit, reading a magazine through tinted glasses.

"Are you with the Barthomeloi's? I'm here to-" Ariel began, but the muscle freak cut her off.

"Here's what you need," he said, hefting up a black, runescribed canister the size of her forearm from the floor. "Open it in your workshop and make sure you've got your Command Code ready first. Anything else you need, just drop by and ask."

He threw it at her without another word. She caught it, but almost dropped it right after. Jeez, why is this thing so heavy?! He didn't have any trouble with it! And what does he mean, 'just drop by'? We're not done here yet!

"I know the Heir's here. I want to speak with them so we can discuss plans and-"

"And Master Barthomeloi doesn't want to talk to you. Guess whose wishes take priority here?" Closing the magazine, the man stood up and took the needle off the vinyl disc. "They'll contact you when the time is right, not the other way around. That clear enough for you, girlie?"

Ariel was planning on replying, but then he cracked his knuckles and an ominous pressure began bearing down upon her skin. Suddenly the library did not look warm and regal anymore - it looked like a scene of impending violence. W-what the hell is this guy? What's his problem?!

As much as it ground her gears, maybe discretion was the better part of valor here. "...Of course. As you wish."

She turned around and left, slamming the door behind her on her way out. As she abandoned the Dominion Suite, and got back in the elevator, she couldn't keep herself from shaking with rage.

How dare he? How dare he? I'm the scion of the Labelle family, not some kind of lackey they can order around! I won't allow them to think of me as incompetent! If they think I need help so badly, fine! I'll win this war without asking those Barthomeloi jerks for a single thing!

It was raining by the time Ariel reached the ground floor. Fortunately, the Tower of Rose always had a squad of taxi cabs available for visitors.

"Take me to La Belle. And make it quick!" she barked as she got inside, still fuming from her encounter within the Dominion suite. Sensing the danger, the cabbie wisely chose not to argue, and instead stepped on the gas.

Fifteen minutes later, Ariel entered her family's shopping centre. The seven-story behemoth had been one of their most brilliant acquisitions - built right as the City began to flourish, it had come to dominate the fashion landscape by offering all the best brands of Europe and the world under one roof. Even though its power as a magical site paled in comparison to the Tower of Rose, the sheer amount of money it funnelled into the family's coffers gave it a kind of power all its own.

That wasn't what the heir to the Labelles was looking for at the moment, however - it was past midnight, and all the customers had already left. No, what she wanted lay at the top of the building, on a special hidden sub-floor. There, her family's atelier awaited her. There, she would call forth the servant of the Barthomelois and bind it to her, and there her participation in the Holy Grail War would formally begin.

The atelier was nothing like the alchemical workshops of old. It most resembled a miniature weapons research facility. The walls were lined with racks of experimental magical apparel, some still in the prototyping phase, some straight up failures, others tried and true standards of the Labelle family. Magical reagents were carefully preserved in person-sized glass tubes, and boxes of mundane materials were piled in one corner. Even though it had nothing on the family's central workshop back in France, the City's atelier would still have made lesser magi turn green with envy. And if they'd known about the bounded field security system, they would have killed to try and unearth its secrets. This last thing in particular was what Ariel was counting on as she placed the canister within a permanent magical circle and began preparing the invocation.

"Morph code Ixis-IPCC. Zeus Navigator, activate."

A casual onlooker would have assumed Ariel's clothes were nothing more than a trendy, finely cut high-school uniform. They would have been wrong. Responding to her command, the uniform dissolved covering her whole body from neck to toe in a skintight nanomachine mesh. As soon as she felt the comfortable 'fabric' on her skin, all of Ariel's worries faded away. The Zeus Navigator was her pride and joy, a Mystic Code that combined magecraft and state-of-the-art technology. Its adaptability knew almost no bounds, and it had even been modified to serve as her Command Code, with which she would be able to control the servant of the Barthomelois.

"Function Dominateur, engage. Function Amplificateur, engage."

Three spots lit up on her body. One was on the back of her left hand, the other on the right. The last one appeared in the center of her chest, above her heart. A circuit was established between them, drawing lines conveying massive quantities of mana across her body. These were the Simulacrum Command Spells, the proof of her ability to control a Servant in spite of not having been chosen as a master. Now all that was left was to unleash their energy.

“Shut (Bind). Shut (Bind) Shut (Bind). Shut (Bind) Shut (Bind).
Repeat every five times.
Once bound, hold and do not let go.

---Let it be declared now:

Your flesh will serve under me. My fate will be then chained to yours.

In accordance with the common goal of claiming the Holy Grail, if your ambition extends beyond human reach, then answer-!

---Here, I make my vow:

I am the one who will attain all virtues in Heaven.
I am the one who will claim dominion over all evils of Hell.

You, clad with the Great Trinity, come forth from the circle of constraint, Guardian of the Heavenly Scales...!”

With a hiss of steam, the seal upon the canister came loose. There were no blinding lights, nor bursts of magical energy -- and yet, Ariel knew immediately that she had succeeded, for she felt a sudden awareness of the presence before her, as though the Servant she had bound had bonded with her soul.

A strange, gooey liquid emerged from the canister, pale cyan in color, shining with a faint inner light. It lingered in its place for a moment - and then, it rose upwards, taking a humanoid shape. It quickly gained more and more detail, acquiring limbs, hair, facial features and even a shapely feminine figure, but never lost its colour or liquid form. At last, the creature opened her eyes, distinguished from the rest of her body by their brilliant golden colour, and warily eyed the magus before her.

“I’m...free again.” The words were clear, but her diction was sloppy, as though she weren’t used to speaking at all. “But I don’t know where I am. Are you my new jailer?”

“I’m Ariel Labelle, of the Labelles of France!” Ariel proclaimed proudly. “But I don’t know what you’re doing here. What are you supposed to be, anyway? The Barthomelois promised me a Servant, not some weird Mystic Code!”


“Ah. I see,” the liquid girl murmured, lost in thought. “I can feel the bond linking us. I feared the worst, for a moment...but I’m glad it’s nothing more than this.” She curtseyed, spreading her liquid frame as though it were a cloth. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lady Labelle. I am your servant, Rider.”

Eeeh?! “That can’t be right. You must be joking!”

“I’d never joke about something so important!” the liquid girl protested, ardently. “Allow me to prove it! Sign our oath! Please, just let me know this…!”

- - - Updated - - -

Chapter Five: Grey Haze

Luna!

Luna!
Luna, I'm bored! C'mon, let's go for a walk!


Luna Schwarz's eyes snapped open. She took one look at the clock beside her bed and sighed. It’s 4 PM and I’ve sleep for sixteen hours. Why do I still feel like hell? Must’ve been the nightmares. They just never end…


...I can't keep this up anymore. I can’t even move… it’s too hard. I need to do something about this… but what? And how? I don’t really feel like anything…

…


...


...I'll never be free. She sank deeper into the bed. I'm sorry, Prinzessin. I'm sorry for being such a worthless older sister...I can’t fix this. I can’t fix myself. It’d take something I’m not capable of. A miracle...

...Right. The circle. I should try working on it some more. Maybe I'll finish it today, she told herself, as she had for the past two months. Half an hour later, she mustered the energy to slip out of bed...

...And then remembered that her bills were coming due tomorrow and she had no money left to pay them with.

First things first, then. She still felt exhausted, but a long, hot shower helped with that a little. As she swapped out of her nightie for an evening dress, she stared at herself in the mirror. I don’t fit this dress, she thought. Can’t fill it out like it deserves. At least it’s not a bad look in theory. I don’t want to put on my uniform today.

Brilliant Park was ten minutes away from her home. She got a lot of odd looks on the way there as she dragged the ice cream cart slowly, but she paid them no mind. They probably think I’m some sort of crazy old lady, even though I’m not that old. She was used to them already.

The crochet-patterned hem brushed softly against the paved stone road as she walked past the park’s gates. Beyond the brick walls that held the City's limitless growth at bay, there was a vast expanse of green. 400 acres of nothing but grassland, trees and a section of the Manae river that provided the City with much of its water supply, even in winter. If the City could be compared to a living being, then without a doubt, Brilliant Park was its lungs. Even though she was barely inside, Luna couldn't help but stop and breathe a little deeper, drinking in the pure air. Maybe having to get out to make ends meet isn't so bad after all.

Dragging the cart so much was tiring, especially in the wintry chill. Luna found a bench and sat down, leaving it beside her. The customers will find me, probably. All I have to do is wait.

Mmm. It's so nice out here...maybe I'll just take a breather and close my eyes…

...

...

...


"Uuuuuu...big brother..."


When Luna opened her eyes again, she couldn't see anything, and it was already night out. How long was I asleep...? Fumbling, she reached into her bag, tucked in one of her cart's compartments. When she turned on her cellphone, she saw it was almost midnight.

A sinking feeling spread through her chest. I lost time again. At least I’m not tired anymore. For once, the nightmares had chosen to stay home.

"Uuuuu...I-I miss you so much!"

On the other side of the road, a few benches away, a young girl had buried her face into her hands, sobbing quietly. Luna looked around, hoping someone would step forward to help her, but there was no one else, perhaps because of the stormclouds gathering on the horizon. It was just them and the cold wind blowing.

A few minutes passed as Luna watched. The girl's melancholy didn't seem to be getting any better - if anything, it had taken a turn for the worse. She looked ready to cry out loud by the time Luna found the courage to stand up and approach her.


"Are you OK?" She asked.

I hate how my voice sounds. It’s so hoarse, like I haven’t used it in months. Maybe I haven’t...I can’t remember the last time I spoke to anyone else. I shouldn’t have been so blunt...ugh, I’m so stupid.


The girl stopped sobbing and looked up, confusion clear on her pale face.

"U-uhm...I...I'm fine," she said, shaking her head, clearly lying through her teeth. "S-sorry if I worried you."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they stared at each other, grasping for something to say. In the end, it was Luna's job to break the ice.

"You look pretty sa- down." 'Down' is so much less intrusive than calling someone sad. That'll work. "Do you want some ice cream?"

"What? N-no, it's OK!" The girl insisted, then let out a nervous cough. "I-I can't pay for it anyway..." she mumbled, lowering her head.

She looks so miserable… is this how everyone else sees me? Am I really so sorry-looking? She shook the thought off. What does it matter, anyway? Seeing someone else act like this is making me feel worse.



"It's not important. My treat. Come here," she said, gesturing at the cart. She almost stumbled as she got up, but managed to catch herself in time. Her dress was elegant, but certainly not good for making sharp turns.

The girl's eyes went wide, but she didn't argue the point further. Instead, she followed Luna back slowly as she got behind the cart and began looking for the ice cream buckets.


"Which flavor?"



"Um...strawberry, please!" the girl blurted out, her brown eyes lighting up at the prospect.


Deep inside, Luna couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. No one can resist the lure of good ice cream, after all.

"Here," she said, handing it over. "Don't eat it too quickly, it's very sweet. What's your name?"

"I'm Lilly! Thanks so much, Miss!" she said, sitting down beside her on the bench and taking a few tentative licks at the frozen treat.

"Luna." Feels good to say it out loud. Sometimes I have to struggle to remember it.

She repeated it again, a little louder. "My name's Luna."


"Miss Luna, got it!" Apparently satisfied with the taste, Lilly began digging into the ice cream ravenously, as though she hadn't eaten in days.

"Why were you crying?" Still so blunt...I really need to work on that.

Lilly stopped and looked down, troubled. "...My brother...I..." she began, but couldn't finish. She didn't have to.

You lost someone too? Poor girl.

"...It's hard," Luna answered, quietly. "It...hurts a lot. Doesn't it?"

"Y-yeah..." Lilly sniffled. "Miss Luna...did you lose someone too?"


She let out a noncommittal grunt. I can’t talk about it. It still feels like yesterday, even though it’s been a decade. But Lilly didn't seem to notice.

"I'm so silly...I shouldn't be crying like a baby. Doug wouldn't want to see me like this. He'd say to just enjoy the ice cream, smile and keep going!"

And that was exactly what she did. It’s like staring at a little ray of sunshine in the dark. "Mmm! Miss Luna, this ice cream's really good! Do you come here often? I want to buy another one!"

"Mmm." Not that often, but she doesn’t need to know I’m only doing this because I have to. "Probably again tomorrow." I really need to sell some for real next time. If I don’t, I’m gonna have to go without electricity or gas for a couple days.

"OK! Then I'll be here tomorrow too! And I'll bring money to pay for this too!" Smiling, she got up and gave her a quirky little bow. "Thanks so much, Miss Luna! I feel a lot better now."

"It's fine. Just take care of yourself now. You don't want to..."

...End up like me.


"Yeah! Don't worry! I will! I gotta go now, though, I'm running late. Bye-bye!" She took off at a brisk run, her mary-janes clattering against the stone road, leaving Luna all alone. She watched Lilly go until she disappeared from sight. Then, her hands balled into fists.

Look at her. She's lost her brother and has no money, but she hasn't given up yet. Why can't I do the same? It's because I'm a coward. A coward and a weakling. She bit her lip so hard it started to bleed.

I need that miracle. It's never going to get better until I find it. I can't wait any longer.

---

"Let silver and sapphire be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.

Let the moon and stars witness the unfolding miracle.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.
Let it fill the void left empty. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill.
Let each be turned over five times, simply breaking asunder with every filling."

The circle was complete. Luna's apartment was covered by a thin layer of frost now - books, bed, couches, all of it taken by the ice. In the center of the circle, a tiny sun glowed brightly, enveloping everything in its radiance and heat. Underneath it rested Luna's most prized possession - a necklace of silver and sapphire belonging to Christina, her younger sister. She hadn't looked at it in years, and even now it was covered in a thin layer of dust, but there had been no doubt in her mind - this was to be her catalyst, and no other. How else could she find freedom if she couldn't perform a summon connected to her wish?

"This is what I proclaim. Lend yourself to my care. Your working shall set me free. By this pact, if you find this reason worthy, if you cherish this hope, then answer."

Who will answer? This is a waste of time.

...No. Someone will answer. Someone MUST answer. I believe. I believe. I believe, I believe, I believe...

"Protector of the future, gone beyond your last reward, clad in words of power, come to this beacon, this circle. Become manifest...!"

The sun went out. The cold enveloped her. All went dark...

---

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a rich, melodious voice woke her up.

Luna opened her eyes...or tried to, but immediately had to close them again. Lights on. Too bright. Cheerful, yet strangely reserved laughter filled the air.

"Don't strain yourself too much. You overloaded your magic circuits and passed out. You must pace yourself next time," the voice chided her gently. "But I must say...it was a spectacular summon."

Again, Luna tried to open her eyes, and this time she saw the person talking to her, by her bedside.

Her skin was as dark as ebony, and her hair was the colour of jet. Her lips were red and full, like ripe berries, and her green eyes sparkled with intelligence. She wore a mantle of blue, spangled with stars of gold and white, and the sheer silken top she wore exposed a generous bosom. Her hand, delicate but firm, was on Luna's wrist, and when she saw her looking, she flashed her an affectionate smile.


"I am your Servant, Caster. You called for me, and I have come." She leaned forward, removing a rogue lock of hair from between her eyes before continuing, causing Luna's heart to skip a beat. "Of all the Servants, I've been given this privilege...you've made a wise choice. Tell me, what is your name, O summoner of mine?"


"M...mm...my name is Luna," she managed to spit out, eventually. Her brain felt like it had shut off. She couldn't remember ever being in the presence of a woman as perfect as this one. Compared to her, she couldn't help but feel pitiful and small - and yet, Caster merely continued to smile and nodded sagely.

"So the woman of the moon calls to me. Then, I really am blessed. It is the night that is my element," she said, mischievously. "My dear Luna, I am ready to embark on our journey. Tell me now, then, and tell me true..."




- - - Updated - - -

Chapter Six: This Desperation


Millennium Tree was many things to many people. To the children who played underneath in the shade of its massive branches, it was a source of endless adventures. To the lovers that believed the popular myth that bonds exchanged in its presence and sealed by planting a seed beneath its roots would endure forever, it was a defender of their future. To Lilly Evergreen, it was home. It was the only home she had now.

She leaned against the bark, out of breath, right as it began to rain. The moment she made contact with it, the tree recognized her touch. The wood parted, allowing her to enter the bowels she'd carefully hollowed out.

The dark interior of the tree was barely illuminated by the small lighting tower she'd acquired a few days ago. It was warm, at least, but every time she stepped inside, everything that had happened since that day seemed like a bad dream...

...She didn't belong here. She should've been back home, with the rest of her family and Doug. Suddenly tired, she leaned against the wood and slumped down, clutching her knees together.

“...I still miss you, big bro.”

She didn't start crying again, though. Miss Luna hadn't been crying either, and that left her with no excuse. She had to be strong, just like her. Only a really strong person would go around with such a fancy dress, handing out ice cream to people that needed it! She just needed a minute. Just a minute...

It was all their fault. Those Barthomeloi monsters! How could they have done something like that? Killing people who'd never done anything to them… she dug her nails into her arms so hard they started to bleed. They'd pay. They'd all pay for this!

The lighting tower illuminated the grooves carved into the wood, taking the shape of a full circle. It was a crude thing, and she knew as much. Mom had never gotten around to teaching her more than the basics of summoning theory, but there were things she could do to make up for that. With a nod, Lilly stood up and pulled back the sleeves of her dress, then headed for the little backpack that contained all of the worldly possessions she'd brought with her. From it, she drew two things: The first was the dagger she'd taken from her brother's cold hands, the dagger that belonged to the monsters she was going to destroy. The other was a vial of glowing green liquid, made out of mandrake, empress bloom and lunar tear that she'd harvested just yesterday - her medicine, just in case. Once she had them, she returned to the circle and… all she could do was stare at it. There was no other way to complete the circle in time, but...

Lilly, promise me you'll keep going. No matter what, promise me you'll always keep going!

"I promise, big bro. I won't let you down," she said. And she raised the dagger and slit her wrist.

It hurt a lot less than she was expecting. There was a sting to it, but in a way, the feeling of blood flowing was almost… nice. Carefully, Lilly held her slashed wrist over the circle and let the blood fall down, slowly filling the grooves. It was a slow process, and soon Lilly began to feel dizzy. There was a long way to go before the circle was done, still. And so, she began tracing a complex script in the air with the tip of the dagger, treating it as an extension of herself.




There was no end to the crimson fluid. It poured and poured and poured, and Lilly did not ache, nor feel dizzy again. Mana became energy became cells become blood. This was her family's art and the magic she'd practiced since she was little. With this power, she could supply enough blood to fuel the circle with tremendous amounts of magical power. There was only a single drawback to such a magic.


Hunger.

She bit her lip unconsciously, and tasted blood, sweet on her lips. She stared at the two fingers on the flat of the dagger's blade, dancing mesmerizingly in the dim light. How would they taste? Would they be sweet too? Or perhaps tangy and bitter?

...ial.

She made another cut, slightly above the first. The blood poured out of it, like a beautiful fountain. Lilly couldn't help but smile. So wonderful!

...the vial.

The incantation came to a stop. Experimentally, she put a finger in her mouth and began taking little bites, not yet really letting her teeth sink in, getting a feel for the taste. It seemed a little insipid… but maybe the core would be more delicious?

She blinked. Why did she feel so tired all of a sudden?

I need to drink the vial!

The realization of what she'd been about to do hit Lilly like a hammer. Pulling the fingers out of her mouth, she dropped the dagger and scrambled to pull the stopper off the vial, getting her dress covered in red in the process. If she hadn't started to feel so dizzy, she'd never have noticed her sickness taking over. Desperately, she swallowed its contents, and broke into a violent coughing fit.

It took her several moments to pick herself back up. The medicine tasted like fire going down, but it was much better than eating off her fingers. Gradually, the hunger vanished - quelled, yet not destroyed. When she was sure it wouldn't flare back up again, she resumed the spell, filling the rest of the circle up. Once it was done, she closed the wound and put the dagger down. A thick, coppery smell filled the air now, as she inspected her handiwork and closed her wounds.

This'll work. I'm sure of it! Now, all she needed to do was perform the summon and a hero would come who'd help her find revenge. Gathering her courage, she put her beloved big brother's silver ring in the middle of the circle, took a deep breath, and began to intone:

"Let blood and silver be the essence.
Let family and purpose be the foundation.
Let the World Tree be the ancestor.
Let rise a wall against the raging winds.
Let the four gates open.
Let the three-forked trail from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be known, your power shall be under my command. My heart shall be as one with your arrows of retribution. Submit to the beckoning of the grail. Submit to my designs. Submit to my pleas. If you would aid me in this crusade, then answer!!"

The blood that had pooled to form the circle rose up, leaving it bare as it coalesced into a human shape. It bubbled and sizzled, turned and roiled -- and then, its motion abruptly ceased and it dispersed into thin air, leaving nothing but red particles and a handsome, lithe man behind.

"Servant Archer, at your disposal. Let the guile of my strategies be unmatched. Let the aim of my bow be true," he said, kneeling down, and when he opened his eyes, their crimson irises shone with cunning. "And let the Fates forecast our inevitable victory. Tell me, what shall I call you?"

"Um… my name is Lilly, Mr. Archer. I'm glad to meet you!" He looked so brave! And so gallant too, with his long blond hair and that massive bow behind his back. With someone like him at her side, avenging her family wouldn't be any trouble at all!

"Likewise, Lilly. Are we ready to get going then?"

"A-already?"

"Of course!" Archer said, nodding vigorously. "Scouting the terrain is our first priority if we want to catch our opponents offguard. Ah, but there's one thing we need to do before that," he added, as though he'd just remembered about it.

"I know this might sound awkward, but please humor me for a second here..."

- - - Updated - - -

Chapter Seven: System Malfunction


>Command received. Initiating program search. Target: "Diàoyòng.EXE".
>Target found. Executing program.
>Invoker.EXE engaged. Beginning summoning circle preparations. Executing Lichtshöpfer process. Summoning diagram progress: 23% complete.
>Summoning diagram progress: 57% complete.
>Summoning diagram progress: 90% complete. Activating backup mana flow capacitors. Activating anchoring systems. Activating Aria process.
>Summoning diagram progress: 100% complete. Beginning summons.

As his computer took care of the necessary preparations for summoning his servant-to-be, Lucas K. Graves meditated, surrounded by a circle of light. He thought about the upcoming scenes of bloodshed he would witness. He thought about his role in it, an instigator of murder for a worthy cause. He thought about the endless cycles of karma, and the centuries it would take to wash away his sins. Most of all, he thought of Yu, and wondered if she'd already read the message he'd sent her this morning, informing her of what he was about to do. He had no regrets about his decision, and was prepared to deal with the consequences...but even so, he still felt he owed her an apology. He'd made many mistakes, but she was the only person he felt he'd truly failed.

If only he could be a better man. Perhaps he would, in his next life. Whatever happened, he would always have that hope to cling to.

>Let blood and sacrifice be the essence.
>Let light and binding codes be the foundation.
>Let heaven and earth bear witness to the path.
>Let the spirits of old shatter the barrier.
>Let the eyes of the enlightened close.

>Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.
>You who shall serve with relentless justice. You whose madness shall bring salvation.
>I shall be the one to wield your chains.
>From the realm of gods, I mend your cycle to break all.
>Come forth protecto
>System error. Retrying now.
>Come forth, prote

>System error. Retrying now.
>4612171b0117001b0e45431c0c1d160a520d11744e19061a1 14d0e55174f084e543714050b174353541b48070e000e4d
>12104c06134e5709140f104f02521b0a0442020
>ERROR ERROR ERROR
>CANCELLING PROCESS NOW
>PROCESS UNCANCELLABLE. Diàoyòng.EXE HAS EXPERIENCED A CRITICAL ERROR. INITIATING SYSTEM SHUTDOWN.
>ABORT
>ABORT
>ABORT
>Tether found. Overriding security systems. Initiating advanced anchoring procedures. Summoning now.

To draw the summoning circles used in his ritual, Lucas had opted to link his laptop to a projector, emitting split rays in two separate directions. From one moment to the next, the ray of clear blue light that had formed the second summoning circle turned pitch black, then an unnatural shade of red.

The change in lighting was enough to break Lucas' concentration. He opened his eyes and tried to stand up - and it was then that the whole world began to shake. His eyes narrowing, he dropped to a crouch, keeping his center of mass close to the ground. Was this an enemy attack? No, the first thing he'd done was ward the suite against enemy magecraft, and he knew of no magic that could make a building as big as the hotel quake like this. Whatever this was, it had to be coming from inside the room. And that meant the source could only be one thing...
The tremors came to an abrupt stop. A maddened scream brimming with rage and hatred rang out, so loudly Lucas thought his eardrums were about to burst. Then, the ominous red hue of the sympathetic circle faded to white... no. Not faded. With how sudden the change had been, it was more accurate to say that it had died.

Thump. The circle shook and flickered.

Thump. The light bent in unnatural angles, as though in a mighty titan's grip. What the hell was going on here...?

CRASH!

The circle of light exploded, sending out such a mighty shockwave Lucas couldn't help but be sent flying. He reflexively rolled with the impact, managing to mitigate the worst of it when he hit the wall, and it was this that allowed him to see it -- a gauntleted fist, poking out through a hole in reality, digging holes in the floor. It found purchase and pulled itself upward -- and that was how Lucas' Servant made his entrance into the world.

He was a man clad in state of the art combat armor, but to put it in those words was to say the ocean was wet. Linked armoured plates covered a giant of a man from head to toe, the paint of its steel covered in scratches and faded. Its bulk was tremendous, but a glance was enough to tell that it was only so because the man underneath was nothing less than a behemoth. His mouth and nose were covered by a rebreather built into his helmet, and his face was obscured by a thick glass pane. It was an unbelievable sight, and yet, all of paled in comparison to the sheer pressure emanating from him. This was not merely a man acquainted with violence, something easy to tell from the way his hands clenched into fists as he pulled himself out of the tear in reality he'd come from and it shut behind him. This went beyond that. This man WAS violence itself, sublimated and given shape. An instrument of perfect carnage, capable of destroying anything that stood in his path. One who had faced countless enemies and slaughtered them all...and yet, in spite of the sheer air of carnage that enveloped him, there was something pure about him as well. This was a man who had never experienced the eternal pains of samsara - an untainted existence, free of sinful desires standing in the way of his purpose.

This was the result of his summoning. What kind of monster had he brought forth?

"Greetings, summoner," a pleasant voice with a mildly electronic tone called out as the monster knelt down. "We apologize for any inconveniences we may have caused with our arrival. You may address me as Assistant or Computer, or whatever other name you find comfortable. This is your Servant, Berserker."

The man stood up and banged his fist against his chest plate with a resounding clang. A gesture Lucas recognized - a form of expressing respect, common to warriors of all cultures.

"Your computing systems are remarkable for this age, but nonetheless quite primitive. If you wish it, we will implement improvements utilizing quantum processing techniques immediately. First, however, we must ratify our contract. Please answer the following question..."

---

And in that moment, spread across the various corners of the City, seven otherworldly voices rang out as one.

“I ask of you: are you my Master?”

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Eight: King and Patriarch

It was getting late down at the First Precinct Police Station. Most of the people who worked there had checked out hours ago, but Elliot White remained steadfast at his desk, plugging along at the report of the Krausemann case that had just wrapped up today. Even though it was dreary, boring work and he had other things he needed to be doing, he was not one to leave anything half-finished. After all, he was about to take his first vacation in ten years starting tomorrow, for reasons related to his other line of work.

Just then, his phone rang out. It was up against his ear before it had time to ring thrice. "Hello?"

"Hey Dad, it's Bruce. You still over at the police station? I called home and Mom said you'd told her you'd be late."

Hearing his son's smooth baritone voice was unexpected, but pleasant surprise. There was something to knowing he was still out there leading a good life that brought a smile to Elliot's face.

"Good guess. Got something on your mind, tiger?"

"You know Nae, from Accounting and Personnel? She told me you'd be taking a couple days off and I was just wondering if you'd be up for visiting us for dinner at some point. Lara and the kids keep asking when they'll get to see you again."

"Of course! I'd love to, Bruce. I've got some business to take care of first, but as soon as I've got it under control me and your mother will swing by. Make sure you've got some of your goulash ready when we do, it's been ages since I got to eat well."

His son chuckled. "Don't let Mom know you think that way or you'll never hear the end of it." Aneesa was quite proud of her cooking skills, and for good reason. "You're not gonna keep her waiting too long because of work, right? You know how much she misses you while you're gone."

"Of course not," he said, pausing a moment to take a sip from his coffee cup. Today's cup had been a gift from Hector a couple years ago, bearing a message only he could've picked: 'with age comes wisdom...and arthritis'.

"I'll be done soon, and then it's straight home for me. I'm gonna make the most of this vacation and make sure she's got no reason reason to complain."

"You got any plans to take her anywhere to celebrate your time off?"

"Not yet. I'll settle in at home first and see where things go from there."

"Sounds like a plan. I've gotta go, Dad, Lara's calling for me. Talk to you later."

"Likewise. Stay safe, Bruce."

It had definitely been good to talk to his son, Elliot decided, as he finished the report. Made for a good reminder of what was at stake. He saved the document, powered off the computer and prepared to leave, but stopped as his hand reached out to pick up his coat from a nearby rack. Instead of standing up, he sat and stared at his desk for a moment. The dozen and a half coffee cups, gifts from his coworkers he'd helped out at some point. The badge he always put down when he sat down to work, marking him as a police sergeant. The anonymous 'One Good Man on the Force' award he'd received years ago as a joke and had never bothered to throw out. He soaked in the sight of them and smiled, but then his grin froze, and all the joy went out of it.

Starting tomorrow, he'd be off work for the sake of protecting a peace his colleagues could do nothing about. Would he ever see these mementoes again? Would he ever see his comrades again? It was a sobering though - realizing just how much he had to lose, and that he might very well come back.

His hand went to the holster on his waist unconsciously. Its cool touch was reassuring. In the battle he was about to walk into, it would be a better shield than any badge.

He killed the lights and finished the rest of his coffee in darkness, lost in thought. Better get used to being back in the dark.

---

An hour later, Elliot knocked on his house's front door and waited. It opened up moments later, revealing a woman who was a welcome sight for his sore eyes.

"Sorry I'm so late, Neesa," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her. "Had to make sure everything was in order before I came home. Did you keep dinner hot for me?"

She turned her head, offering him her cheek so he could kiss it, as she delicately rested a hand against his chest. A throaty purr of approval filled his ears as she felt his lips upon her skin. "Fesenjan and tahdig, for good luck. Everything you asked for is ready too," she said, resting her free hand on his neck and pulling him close.

Incredible. She still remembered what they'd had the night they'd first met. The years had added wrinkles, but anyone who said beauty faded with age didn't know what he was talking out. Decades later, she was still the most perfect woman he'd ever known. Acting on impulse, he clutched her in his arms. This, more than anything, was what he truly was fighting to protect.

"Everything's going to be OK," he promised. "I'll come out on top, no matter what."

"Don't say you'll win," she told him, her voice thick with worry as she clung to him, fearful he'd fade away like mist. "Promise you'll come back to me."

"Don't worry. You know I'll never leave you."

---

"Silver and iron to the Origin. Fang and horn as the cornerstone. The ancestor is clad in ten thousand curses.
The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulates.
Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose.
So bound, shatter once filled.
Your body must serve justice and your heart must seek the truth. So I proclaim.
In accordance with the advent of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, this ideal, then answer.
Here is my oath. I am the one who will seek the end of wars and the return of peace. I am the one who will face without fear the nightmare of all the worlds to protect the innocent.
You who have listened to my intentions and accepted my words, arrive from the ring of deterrence. O one who will bring order to this world, Manifest yourself!"


"So I hear, and so I am come."

No strange phenomena disturbed the peace of the shed behind Elliot's house as the summoning concluded. It was like the opening of a door. For a moment, the light of the summoning circle flickered - and then, there stood a middle-aged man of bright brown hair, a sharp sword of bronze in his right hand, a clew of twine in his left, and a golden crown upon his head. His armour clung to his body and glittered like the sun, and it only took Elliot one look to realize what he truly was.


"I don't know what I was expecting, but a king certainly wasn't it, that's for sure," he said, keeping a smile on his face in spite of his words. This man was trustworthy - everything about him gave an impression of calmness, stability and wisdom.

"That I am, but also something more. I am Ruler, a Servant of the Holy Grail, come to this world for a greater purpose than war. What is your name, magus?"

"Elliot White."

Ruler shook his head. "No, your true name. Do not conceal yourself. The nature of all is laid bare before me."

How did he know...? But Elliot didn't think long about it before answering. "Johannes L. Woodward. Will that suffice?"

"Quite." He walked past Elliot, full of purpose, and opened the door. Outside, he turned to look at his house and stared at it attentively.

"Good foundations, bright lights and a warm hearth," he said, after a moment. "You are a patriarch who takes care of his own. Well done."

"I do my best," Elliot said, humbly. He would've boasted, but in the presence of this king, arrogance seemed out of place. "It's not much, but I think I've raised a good son."

"Would that I could meet him...alas, we have little time. Listen to me, Johannes L. Woodward, and listen well. Something has gone wrong with this war. Too many sincere hopes and dreams have had their weights placed upon the grail and it has overflowed. We must find a certain Servant summoned by it and return him whence he came." As he spoke, his grip upon his sword's hilt tightened until his knuckles turned bone white.

"Keeping everyone safe is why I did this, but I'm not sure I follow," Elliot admitted. "Why is this particular Servant so important?"

Ruler's words made his blood freeze.

"Because if we don't kill him, this city, and perhaps even this world entire, will die in two days."

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Nine: A Shift In The Continuum


It was late -- just before three. There were no lights on at the Université d'O: the window to Harold Pennington's office was the only one lit. It was cold, but he liked working with the window open sometimes, to watch the stars. It rested and calmed his spirit, like listening to an old, familiar song. The only sound that that disturbed the silence was the faint crinkling of his hands turning the pages of the book he was reading. Astrophysics was not his specialty, yet 'A Brief History of Time' had proven to be a fascinating book indeed. He should have gone home already, but he kept delaying the moment of departure, not wanting to stop reading just yet.

"Hm?" The chair in front of him -- the one everyone sat in when visiting his office -- creaked. What a strange noise... it sounded like someone sitting down. But...

His mind froze as he stared at the chair, head-on. Slowly, very slowly, the air before him began to take shape. Lines appeared, drawing the distinct contours of a human body, then filling it in gradually with several distinct shades of colour. What had started as a transparent ghost gained substance, becoming flesh, and hair, and wrinkles, and self. Several moments later, there sat a man with short blond hair, wearing a pale jumpsuit that covered him from neck to toe, shining iridescently in the gentle light of the office. His eyes were closed and his hands were slack upon the armrests, as though he were in a deep slumber. His peaceful face was covered in lines belaying a life of countless worries that made his age impossible to place.

Harold was not one to believe in ghosts, yet for a moment he could not help but wonder... but no, there was nothing ghostly about this man. Those rough, vein-lined hands were very real, very much of this world. Harold leaned in closer for a better look and decided his clothes, too, were real, though made of a material he had never seen before. They didn't seem to be made of wool or cotton or nylon, or any other synthetic for that matter.

It was then that Harold felt unfamiliar eyes upon him. He looked up, and the stranger’s yellow eyes met his. The man looked away, taking in the furniture, the books, the portraits on the wall.

"I'm on Earth, it seems..." he murmured quietly. Though a man of quick wit, Harold found himself at a loss for words. The man’s sudden appearance had been so strange, too strange.

The man turned to stare at him, and though he didn't know why, he felt strangely comforted. Harold had never seen eyes like his. He had the look of a man who'd seen so much he'd come to understand everything.

"You don't need to answer. I already know I'm on Earth. The beginnings of the 21st century -- 2019, to be exact."

He said the last part looking at the books and papers on Harold’s desk. He had been grading the exams of his students earlier today, and the dates they'd pencilled in could still be seen at the top of the exam sheets.

"I see you read a lot... what do you do?"

It took him a moment to muster the presence of mind to answer. "I'm a professor. I teach History."

The man broke into a warm smile that made the lines on his face shift and deepen. "History... what luck... I've arrived here, of all places, to this office..."

Harold could not contain his curiosity any longer, now that it was clear the man was of sound mind and could speak.

"Forgive me for asking, but who are you?"

The stranger's brow furrowed, as he put a hand to his chin. "Hm. There's no easy answer to that question."

The few moments he spent in thought drifted on, becoming brief eternities. Then, he continued.

"I could give you hundreds of names and I wouldn't be lying. They've all been mine. Seems like it would be easier to understand the name that's been given to me by the power that's sent me here, however. A name perhaps ill-fitting, but appropriate to the circumstances at hand. Avenger, is what it has called me, to explain my fate in just one word... my fate, traveling in time, navigating eternity. My desolate, lonely condition as pilgrim of the aeons..."

His face that had grown so serious as he spoke broke into a smile once more, as if to reassure the man whose office he’d invaded.

"I'm lucky to have landed here... I sense that, after so much time, I'll finally be able to rest a little... you'll let me, won't you? I only need a corner to lie down in... because I'm tired, terribly tired, and I need to rest, so I can keep searching. That is the only thing left for me to do now: search, search, search..."

His calm voice broke for a moment, rent by anguish, but Harold's thoughts were focused more on the strangeness of his arrival and the problem at hand. This was a public property. He would not be able to stay here. And his own apartment was sparse, and lacking in amenities for guests.

"I know what you're thinking," said Avenger, anticipating his response. "Before you turn me away, before you say no, let me tell you why I'm here. When I've told you everything, you'll understand even the strange way I've appeared. And I'm sure you'll want to help me. Listen..."

He listened. For minutes that felt like countless hours, he did nothing but listen. And like Avenger had said, when he was done, everything was clear. Clear enough to fill Harold with terror. Clear enough to fill him with enormous pity for a man who had lost everything. Clear enough to understand that the Holy Grail War was real, that he would struggle and toil as part of it, and that he could not say no to this opportunity to finally find answers to the questions that had haunted him for a decade -- possibly, if he could find his wish, even the opportunity to see Margaret alive and well again.

"So now that you know everything, now that you know of all the risks and hazards ahead of us, let me ask you: will you be my master, Harold Pennington?"

"Of course," said Harold, shaking hands with him. They would fight in this war together, gladly and with no regrets. "My house is close by. Let me take you there, so you can rest."

"Thank you, but this is enough rest for me, now that the pact is made between us. I must arm myself and make preparations. We have no time to waste, Master. My presence here is a threat to everybody’s safety. We must find and defeat the seven other Servants quickly. The end of everything is coming, and we only have two days."

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Ten: Revealing-Thunder

Since waking after the summoning, Luna hadn't had an idle moment. Though Caster had greeted her gently, she began insisting almost immediately after the introductions were concluded on the importance of cleaning the mess her house had become. Worrying about something so menial when they had a war to fight had seemed a little strange to her, until Caster had made a rather incisive observation.

"Wars are not won in a day, Master. Is a little rush worth ruining your life's foundations?"

Half an hour later, the house looked presentable once again, instead of appearing to be practicing its best impression of an abandoned antarctic base. Once the last book had lost its frost coating and been returned to its rightful place, Caster let out a satisfied sigh.

"An orderly house is an orderly mind. Now that everything is taken care of, Master, our work can truly begin."

"So...how are we supposed to do this?" She must think I'm an idiot, asking such an obvious question. I'm so clueless.

"It would be complex to explain, Master. If I do my best to answer your question, will you listen patiently?"

Luna nodded. "Of course."

Caster beamed and flicked the light switch. The only source of illumination that remained was the hearth on the far end of Luna's spacious bedroom, just barely bright enough to rescue the room from darkness. Beckoning her with two fingers, Caster sat down on her bed. Privately, Luna welcomed the chance to lie down and take a breather. Even in the best of days, house cleaning was something she found exhausting. Once she was properly settled in, Caster fixed her emerald eyes on hers and waited for a moment, letting the tension in the air build. When she spoke, she did so with a rhythmic cadence, and her husky voice was so enchanting, the world seemed to melt away before it.

"I have come to know, O beloved Master of mine, that there was once upon a time a moorish magician from the region of Maghreb, who specialized in the art of divination. Though he was the least amongst three brothers in his art, he endeavored to perfect his craft together with his brethren."

"So it came to pass that when their father died, he bequeathed upon his children a prophecy. One of them would rise, and become elevated as the premier spellweaver of their kingdom, and would find enough relics and knowledge to bend the knee of the world entire, but only if they first found an insignificant fisherman, pure of heart but otherwise unworthy of note, and persuaded him to come live with them for a year, and retrieve the treasure of a lost king."

"The three brothers all believed this was their sign, and so set out to find the purehearted fisherman. Each one came upon him in turn, and embarked on a series of ordeals with his help. But ah! The ordeals proved too much for the magician's elder brothers, and they both perished. Yet when the Maghrebi magician met the fisherman, the stars aligned, and he emerged triumphant from his endeavors, and with the fisherman's help obtained the treasures and knowledge of the great king Al-Shamardal. And chief amongst them was a seal ring, which the Maghrebi magician gave to the fisherman, as a token of his undying appreciation for the man who had secured his future and fortune. This ring was not a simple piece of jewelry, Master -- it was the vessel that contained a mighty Jinni, the great Al-Ra'ad al-Kásif, whose name means Revealing-Thunder. With the aid of this ring and its Jinni, the fisherman saved his mother from misery and imprisonment at the hands of an avaricious king, and reformed his wayward brothers...but that is a story for another time."


A slow smile spread across Caster's lips as she stood up and approached the curtained double-window that connected Luna's room to the outside world. She peeled back the curtains and threw the window open, and as she stared up to the sky and continued her narration, the golden decorations of her mantle shone like stars.

"The fisherman was judicious, and used the powers of the ring and its Jinni rarely, and wisely. So it came to pass that when Death came for him, none of his kin knew of the ring's true value, and it was sold to pay some debts. For many years it traveled the world, unrecognized, until it was gifted to a simple storyteller, who had nothing to her name but her love of books and knowledge."

She raised her hand, as if to touch the moon, and for a moment Luna saw a heavy silver ring adorning her finger, inlaid with a great ruby.


Was that ring always there before? Did I just miss it? she wondered, but she had no time to ponder, for Caster continued her tale.

"And though she possessed so little, she recognized the ring of Al-Shamardal, and upon putting it on her finger, she rubbed it, and spoke. "Come to me, first among the Marid, Al-Ra'ad al-Kásif, Revealing-Thunder!""

And so it was that smoke began to pour out of the ring, taking the form of a bare-chested man of deep-red skin, sixteen feet tall in height. And he knelt down in mid-air, and spoke:

"I am here, Mistress. Your wish is my command."

"And the storyteller said to him, "heed my words, Revealing-Thunder, for I beseech thee. You who govern the skies, you who speak with the wind, learn from it and seek the heroes of legend within this city, and confront them. And once you've learned what you can from them, return to me at once.""

"It will be done," said the Jinni, and he became wind and disappeared. Only Caster was left, staring through the window at the night sky once more.

"And so, the Jinni departed to seek the heroes, and learn what he could for them..." And with this, she turned around and walked slowly back to Luna's bedside. "But that is a story for another time. For now, Master, we have more important things to think about."

Awakening from Caster's story was like coming out for a dream. Luna shook her head a few times to clear it, and it was only then that she fully realized what had happened had not been a story but fully real.

"I... Caster, how did you do that?"

"Hm? It was nothing special," she said, modestly. "I simply plied my craft and answered your question through a story, Master. That is all."

"I know, but... in this day and age, phantasmal creatures like that one are completely extinct. Summoning such a powerful monster should've required tremendous amounts of mana, and yet I didn't even notice the activation of a single circuit." A frightening thought crossed her mind, unbidden, and was given voice by her lips before she could make sure it was contained. "Are my skills as a magus so feeble I can't even recognize this much..."

"You think too little of yourself, Master." Caster shook her head, sadly. "I am not a spell-weaver. The only things I can create are dreams. But if you feel so unprepared for the battle before us, then I shall teach you lessons that will boost your confidence. Would you like that?"

There's no point in trying. I'm too much of a failure to learn anything from someone like her. But if I could be just a little bit more like her...

"Yes," Luna answered, after a moment. "I'd love that."

"Good," Caster said. Was that a hint of pride in her voice? "Let us begin immediately, Master." She offered Luna her hand. "Come with me."

She stood up and followed after Caster, lost in thought and wondering what sorts of skills she'd learn from her. Perhaps because of this, it was only as they neared its door that Luna noticed they were headed for the house's main bathroom.

"...Caster, I think you've got the wrong there. There's nothing important here."

"On the contrary, Master," Caster answered, firmly. "Our first lesson will begin here. It is time for someone to teach you the basics of hygiene."

That was enough for Luna to come to a dead stop. "...Eh?"

"You take too little care of yourself, Master. It is no way for anyone to live. Ordinarily I would leave this kind of meddling to your loved ones, but this place reeks of loneliness. How long has it been since anyone else has set foot in here?"

That forced Luna to stop and thinking about it. Had she ever invited anyone in? But in the end, her indignation overcame her thoughtfulness. "That doesn't matter. I know how to take care of myself, Caster."

"I disagree," Casted said, in a tone that was rather final. "You look malnourished, unhappy and aged, Master. Would you deny this?"

Luna shrank in response to her words. She tried to muster a counterargument, but found herself at a loss for words.

"It is impossible to master any kind of strength without first establishing the proper conditions to begin learning. To attain a new level of confidence, Master, first you must find something you can certainly be confident of. This is why our work must start here. We will wash and bathe you, and then the first proper lesson will begin."

Wait, what?! A furious blush covered Luna's cheeks. "B-b-but you can't do that!" She spluttered. "I barely even know you, a-and we're both girls, and...!"

"Master! Calm down, please!" Caster interrupted her, clutching Luna's hand in hers. "I promise you I mean nothing untoward by this. Where I come from, it is not unusual for those closely linked to each other to share baths. Taking care of your appearance is the least I can do as your attendant."

"Yeah, but we're not in your country! Here, people bathing together means something else!"

"Master, is this really the time to be so mindful of decorum? You asked me to teach you confidence. How can we make any progress, if you are not prepared to entrust yourself to my care for even this first step?"

Her words cut deeply, and they made sense, but even so, this was forbidden. A dozen different answers swirled within the confines of Luna's head.

"I don't know! It's just too sudden! I'm not sure! I, I—!"

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

How should Luna answer Caster's request to take care of her appearance?


A) Accept. Caster's got my best interests at heart. Even if it's strange, I'm sure she knows what she's doing.

B) Refuse strongly. This is beyond the pale. I can't allow a strange woman to see me naked like this!
C) Refuse lightly. I can't accept this, but Caster seems to care about me. Maybe I should offer something else as a compromise...? (Specify what)

D) Other (Please specify your course of action)


NOTE: In the future, assume 'Other (Please specify)' is always an option. Additionally, using a Command Seal is always an option, but will remain unlisted. Such a decision will never be prompted, as it is yours and yours alone.

PS: As a default, assume after a decision point is posted, players have 24 hours to answer.

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Eleven: War Preparation


After the summoning was complete and the contract had been ratified, Sophita assumed they would begin taking action immediately. Instead, however, Saber had taken one look at her and ventured a (very polite, but confident) guess that she had not yet eaten that day. And indeed, she had been fasting for the ritual, to increase her chances of success. Thus, Saber had insisted she dine first, before sitting down to discuss their plans.

"An army marches on its stomach," he had said. "Simple things like ensuring you have eaten will prove to be the key to victory some day, Master."

He had refused to budge, in spite of her wishes to take action, and thus in the end Sophita had conceded and approached the house's fridge. Thankfully she still had prepared enough Sarmale for Christmas that they would have some left over even if they ate now. Saber had tried to excuse himself, pointing out that as a Servant he only needed mana, but this time it had been his turn to yield. After having a taste of the sour cabbage rolls, however, he quickly changed his tune.

"This is excellent, Master," he managed to say somehow, even with his mouth so full of food his cheeks were puffed up like a squirrel's. "I've never had this kind of dish before! Is this Hungarian cuisine?" he asked, as he continued to stuff himself as fast as he could.

"Romanian," she corrected him, as she delicately cut her own rolls to little pieces, ensuring not even a little bit of beef spilled out. "Please don't eat so quickly. You'll make a mess."

Saber nodded, paused for a moment to swallow, and then put the cutlery down. "My apologies, Master," he said, now as impeccably polite as ever. "It's been a very long time since I last had a truly satisfying meal. The shock of eating something truly delicious must have gotten the best of me."

What kind of life had he led, that something this simply could alter his demeanor so much...? Though Sophita was curious, she did not give her curiosity a voice. They ate in silence from then on, until both had finished. Then, Saber kicked back his chair, rested his boots against the edge of the table, clasped his hands together over his stomach and closed his eyes.

"Ahh… what a difference a moment of peace and wellness like this makes," he said, a little smile on his face. "Now that we have taken care of our needs, we can afford to truly think."

"Think all you want, but please keep dirty footwear off the table as you do so," Sophita requested, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. "We cannot allow the place where we eat to get dirty like this."

"Of course, of course, Master. Just a moment..." He lingered as he was for a few more minutes, deep in thought, and then his eyes snapped open.

"Well then," he said, returning the chair to its original position and his boots to the floor. "I believe I am ready to explain our current situation now. If I may, Master?"

She nodded. "Go ahead."

BGM: https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=bX5CpBfTg4o

Resting his arm on the table, Saber leaned forward to stare at her. "The first thing we must do is frankly assess our capabilities. Master, what is your expertise in Magecraft?"

"None." She answered sharply and promptly, without a trace of shame. "I am not a Magus but a homunculus, created to assist my masters."


"Hmm. I see… and you were chosen in their place because they were unable to attend to this Holy Grail War?"

"No. I was chosen because I am disposable, and because I requested to take their place. The head of my house thinks this war is a sham with no prospects. As a low-value asset, it was not a great cost to allow me to attend and hedge our bets."

"A poor assessment of this war's true value," Saber said, grinning sardonically in response. "But this is good to know, nonetheless. It is time to explain my own situation then. Master, you must know this: though I am by no means defenseless in individual combat, our enemies will be heroes of legend much more imposing than me. My true value never lay in my own martial prowess. I was at my best when I directed others to victory. If we are to succeed in this war, we must make acquiring allies our priority. Even just a few elite soldiers would make a tremendous difference in our chances of success. If we call your House for aid, will they support us?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Doubtful. House Einzbern will be interested to learn I've actually managed to summon a Servant, but that by itself won't be enough to get them to commit more resources to a wild goose chase. They might provide some backup, but if so, it won't be much."

Saber's brow furrowed. "What about resources? Can we count on funding, at least?"

"Yes, but not too much. My House is rich, but the entire budget that has been alloted to me is minimal in comparison. We'll be able to make expenditures, but we won't be able to be extravagant about it."

A long sigh escaped Saber's lips. "The more things change, the more they stay the same... it appears that no matter the age, those who truly hold the reins of power remain ignorant of any proper concepts of statecraft or military strategy." There was more than a hint of bitterness in his voice, but he dismissed his irritation with a wave of his hand. "We will have to keep this in mind. Master, have you done any research on the powers within this city? Are there any potential allies we could sway to our cause?"

She nodded. "I made sure to inform myself about the place I'd be visiting before I arrived. The City is a trade hub. Everything is bought and sold within its borders. Not just legal transactions - it's host to one of the largest black markets of Europe. Almost anything can be found here. Weapons, magical reagents, mercenaries… and even worse things, like slaves." As she spoke, her voice went cold and distant. She had never been tossed around so casually, like a piece of meat, but it was all too easy for her to imagine what it must be like. She couldn't suppress a shiver, in spite of her best efforts.

Judging by the dark look in his eyes, Saber was none too pleased either. "Disgusting. I thought such practices had been exiled from the civilized world years ago. It seems man still has a ways to go." His visible hand clenched to a fist. "Mercenaries can be valuable, but also quite fickle. Personal experience tells me that much. Do you have a group in mind?"

Privately, Sophita was thankful he'd asked. Mercenaries were a much nicer subject to think about than slave trade. "Yes. There's a cell from a certain magical mercenary group stationed here at the moment. I believe they are called the Rookery. Their price will be high, but their skills are second to none. There's also certain mundane groups as well that might be worth contacting."

"I see. I see... anything else?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "The Catholic Church is interested in the advent of the Holy Grail and has promised to oversee the war to guarantee collateral damage will be kept to a minimum and the truth of the war won't come to light. I don't know who their representatives are supposed to be or how pliable they are, but they're supposed to know who the participating Masters are. We could go to them for aid and information."

"After my passing, I was excommunicated from the church… and the grudges of clergymen last quite a long time, I'm afraid." Saber shook his head, his face gravely serious. "None of the immediately obvious choices at our disposal are good. An uncaring people, unpredictable mercenaries, or nominally neutral churchmen. Each of these options has their positives and their negatives, and determining which outweighs the other is no easy task. What do you think we should prioritize then, Master? Logistical backup, ground forces, or information?"

"..."

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!


Sophita's campaign is fraught with perils, and Saber's true potential cannot be unveiled without a proper military force to take command of. What is the first step she should take towards acquiring one?

A) Call home and insist on speaking with the family head. Jubstacheit Von Einzbern must be persuaded to throw the full might of the house behind us if we are to succeed.

B) Contact the mercenaries and enlist them to the cause. If Saber requires subordinates to command, I'll find some for him. (Specify whether they will be magical, mundane, or both)

C) Visit the churches of the City to look for information from the Vatican's agents. Preparation is the key to victory. We'll be able to better decide our next move once we know what we're dealing with.

D) Let Saber decide. His experience in fighting wars is clear. He'll know what decision to make.

PS: As a reminder, mail-in choices are always an option!

[Bird of Hermes]

B - Both

I doubt Jubstacheit will listen and if grudges hold then we'll receive nothing from the church, but a mix of magic and mundane will be helpful

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Twelve: Higher Ground

“Alright then,” said Archer, the contract between him and Lilly sealed. “Now that all that dreadfully boring stuff’s over and done with, we shouldn’t sit around wasting time anymore. The first thing we need to do is find out who our opponents are and where they’re hiding. What do you say we go find a vantage point?”

“U-um… won’t all the buildings get in the way?” Lilly asked, shooting the skyline a look of concern. She didn’t want to contradict him when he seemed so sure about his plan, but there was only so far anyone could see in any direction once they stepped into the city that surrounded Brilliant Park.

“Nah, I don’t think so. We’re not really looking for minute details here - just mana emissions. Not to toot my own horn too much, but I do have pretty good eyes. Even if we can’t work out any exact locations immediately, we’ll be able to narrow things down pretty quickly once we have a direction to go in. Come on,” he said, beckoning her to come closer as he headed for the exit. “Wars are won and lost off of information. We don’t want anyone catching us with our guard down.”

That made sense. Smiling, Lilly picked up her backpack, slipped it on and nodded. “OK, Mr. Archer. Let’s go!”

Outside, Archer stopped for a moment to take a deep breath.

“Such magical, pure air...it’s like the Age of Gods never ended.” He pointed at a cluster of skyscrapers, far in the distance. “Those buildings look like a decent target. It’ll take a while to reach them if we just take it easy though. Hmm...” For a moment, he studied Lilly appraisingly, and then he broke into a grin.

“Say, Lilly, how do you feel about a piggyback ride?”

“Mr. Archer, do you mean...?”

“A Servant is much faster than a normal human being. If I carry you instead of just walking beside you, we’ll be there in a flash. I know it’s a bit undignified, but there’s no one watching and I think the circumstances warrant it. So? What do you think?”

I don’t know...is this something he should be asking? Maybe I should say no, but… Big Bro used to give me piggyback rides too, until I got too big for him.

…

A powerful feeling of nostalgia overtook her. So much had happened, and so much time had passed since then. She’d been so lonely since the attack…

“O-OK. Let’s go!”

“That’s the spirit,” Archer said, grinning as she climbed slowly and carefully upon his back, over his bow and the cloak underneath. “Hang tight. We’re going to hit the ground running. Ready? Then let’s go!”

A mighty gale enveloped Lilly as Archer took off, and she couldn’t keep herself from screaming in surprise as she felt a strong pressure pressing against her stomach and it became hard to breathe. He’d accelerated so quickly it was like riding on a motorcycle that had cleared 0 to 60 in a split second and shot right past it. The grassy plains and great trees of Brilliant Park became an indistinct emerald blur under the moonlight, and as he ran, a triumphant whoop escaped Archer’s lips.

“Finally! It’s been too long!”

Lilly’s grip around his chest and waist tightened out of instinctive fear, and the wind roared around them. As she got used to the speed however, she realized it was a howl of frustration -- as though it could only try and fail to hold them back. She couldn’t keep a smile from dawning on her face, either. She’d never been able to run for very long without getting tired, but if this is what being fit and healthy felt like, then she understood why Archer was so elated by the chance to stretch his legs.

“Hey, Lilly!” Archer hollered, as they jumped over the park wall and landed in the middle of a silent avenue. He’d been sprinting for a whole minute, but his breathing was still perfectly even. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure!” she shouted back. “What is it?”


“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No!”

“Good, ‘cause we’ve got some mountains to climb!”

He leapt up again, rising several stories, and landed against the wall of an apartment building. Before gravity could set in, Archer kicked back and rebounded, crossing the street in a flash, landing atop a steel balcony -- but he didn’t stop there, jumping off again, seizing a clothesline with both hands, spinning round and round a few times then letting go, allowing their own momentum to carry them several floors upward, to the rooftop’s edge.

Maintaining his dizzying momentum, Archer leapt from roof to roof, gaining some altitude with every jump. Soon they were atop a helipad, crowning a deluxe condo, and the city below them looked dizzyingly small.

“Alright, this is our stop,“ said Archer, helping Lilly down. “Let’s take a look and see what we can find, shall we?”

“OK! I’ll do my best!” Lilly said, sitting at roof’s edge. Drawing a deep breath, she focused and strengthened her eyes with a little bit of mana, allowing them to perceive the currents of energy coursing through the city. The world turned blue, green and gold, and as she got accustomed to the strange sight, she heard Archer crouch down beside her.


“Wow… it’s so pretty!” She said, breathlessly. Her forest home had never been so bright under mage sight.

Archer didn’t seem so impressed, however. “Tch… what’s going on with this city…?”

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GArZA6VwiVk


“What do you mean, Mr. Archer?”

“It shouldn’t be so bright. Mystery’s faded from this world, but this place is overflowing with magic. Look, over there,” he said, pointing at a spot far below, where a slow cloud of what looked like tinted fog rolled down the street. “The energy is everywhere, and it’s not staying still in one place - it’s circulating. I’ve never seen a leyline like this before, so close to the surface.”

“Hmm… I know! Maybe someone’s altered it to make it like this?” Lilly suggested. It made sense - if it wasn’t normal, then someone had to have changed it!

“If that was the case, the flow would be controlled,” Archer said, shaking his head, as a forceful wind began to blow. “That’s what confuses me. I thought the park was an exception, but it’s just the tallest peak in a mountain chain. Why would mages leave such a font of mana untapped…?”

“A good question, warrior of old,” a deep, unnatural voice rumbled above them. “But not one you will be able to answer now. I have been looking for you.”

LIlly and Archer turned around simultaneously. High above, they saw a man the size of a multi-story building, looking down on them. He had red skin and air currents swirled around him, like the center of a dormant hurricane -- now at ease, but ready to erupt and tear apart everything that stood in his way at a moment’s notice.

“Mr. Archer...w-what is that…?” Lilly asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

“Don’t worry,” Archer whispered as he stood up. “I’ll take care of this.”

He spread out his arms in a conciliatory gesture. “Wasn’t expecting to meet an elemental in the middle of a crowded city. Fancy that. You don’t look like a resident, though. New arrival?”

“Of a sort, yes,” the giant said, nodding slowly. “The wind spoke your name in hushed, reverent tones. You have journeyed far and wide together.”

“You could say that,” Archer conceded, nodding. “So why were you looking for me? Someone as imposing as you doesn’t strike me as the type to waste time on idle conversation.”

“Indeed. I have sought you at my master’s request. My task was to find you...and test you.” A slow smile crept across the giant’s face. “My name is Revealing-Thunder. I hope your warrior’s attire isn’t merely for show, vagrant bowman. My instructions did not include orders to show any mercy.”

“Guess there’s no talking you out of this if you’re being commanded to fight, then.” There was a momentary silence as Archer rolled his neck. “I’m the one I’m looking for, right? Are you going to waste both our time by getting this girl involved in our struggle, or can I count on you to provide me with a fair fight?” His lips curled into a smirk as he uttered those last few words -- and though she couldn’t be certain how, Lilly was sure he found the very concept amusing. But Revealing-Thunder didn’t seem to notice.

“My orders were clear. So long as she does not raise a hand against me, I will not respond in turn.” The wind around him picked up. Air coalesced around his hand, like a fog bank, obscuring it from view. “I pity you, warrior. To be returned to this world, only to be so cruelly torn away from it again...I will make this painless, if I can.”

Archer laughed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he squared himself. “You sure know how to talk the talk, big guy. But I wouldn’t be so sure you can walk the walk. There’s a saying in these modern times you should be mindful of. ‘The bigger they come, the harder they fall’.”

Revealing-Thunder raised his hand. “How fitting. You first.”

And with that, he unraveled the winds gathered in the palm of his hand. They slammed against the floor in front of Archer’s feet like a cannonball -- and then erupted in a rising current that sent him flying off the rooftop.

“MR. ARCHER!”

No! NO! NOT AGAIN!

She tried to reach out to catch him, but it was too late - by the time she began making her move, he was already falling, plummeting to a certain, painful death. His figure was already turning indistinct due to the distance, becoming nothing more than a shadowy outline in the moonlit night as he drew closer and closer to the ground…

...But then three silver arrows cut through the night like shooting stars, fired with unerring accuracy. One was aimed at Revealing-Thunder’s head. Another sped towards his heart. With a bored expression on his bearded face, the Jinni raised his other hand, calling forth a small gust of wind that blew them off-course.

But in being forced to defend himself, he was distracted and missed an arrow. The projectile embedded itself into the building’s concrete beneath Lilly’s legs, bearing something the other two had been missing. Attached to that last, most crucial arrow, there was a thick rope.

BGM: The Man of Many Ways.

Before either the young magus or the Jinni could react, the rope went taut. Down below, a shadowy blur rose upward, leaving a great gale in its wake. As it soared upwards, it briefly filled Lilly’s vision, and it was all she could do to stare in awe, not daring to believe.

No, I saw him fall. There’s no way it could be him!

But the moon above was shining brightly and left no room for doubt. Silhouetted against it, his eyes gleaming with triumph, his right hand clutching both the rope and an enormous bronze bow while his left bore a handful of arrows -- there was Archer. His momentum carried him high above. Having secured himself an ideal position, he used it to rain arrows down upon Revealing-Thunder with unhesitating speed.

It was all the Jinni could do to conjure a hurricane shield to deflect the arrows, but Archer had anticipated such a move -- and already, he understood its weakness. As he neared the pinnacle of his ascent, he pulled the rope, subtly shifting its angle and initiating a descent that was almost as swift as his rise had been. When he came down, it was onto Revealing-Thunder’s face, boot-first. As he rebounded off the stunned Jinni, the air filled with the impact of the blow.

“I told you not to be so confident,” he said, landing upon the rooftop on the end opposite to Lilly’s. “For years I journeyed with the wind at my back, pushing me onwards, but it wasn’t on land where all men can stand on their own two feet. The gales were my constant companions at sea, where all men are helpless and at the mercy of the elements. There I survived and thrived, until the winds remembered my name. Did you think death was enough to make me forget those lessons, Revealing-Thunder? Did you think I wouldn’t know what to do when confronted by one of my old allies?”

“Ugh…!” The elemental spirit wiped blood off its lips, incensed. “Insolent mortal. I will teach you to respect the first amongst the Marid. No hero nor king will stand against me!”

He rushed forward with frightening speed, slamming his colossal fist upon the spot Archer was occupying. The hero rolled away at the last moment, firing arrows as he evaded the blow. Revealing-Thunder shoved them aside with an irritated wave of his hand and then attempted to backhand him, but Archer leapt over the tree-trunk-thick arm. Sensing the danger, the Jinni blew a breath that was a hurricane directly at him, sending him over the edge once again.

In response, Archer leaned sideways, tugging on the rope he still held and which had been embedded on the other end of the building, and managed to snag it around the Jinni’s waist. That was enough to allow him to alter his momentum, causing him to begin turning in a sideways arc, leading him to one of the communication antennas that dominated the rooftop’s corners.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to escape the angry Jinni. The movement was telegraphed, and his target obvious. Revealing-Thunder rushed down the rope towards the antenna, fists at the ready. As soon as he was close enough, he lashed out with a blindingly fast jab.

There was only one possible move Archer could make to avoid being struck, and that was to plant his feet upon the Jinni’s knuckles, absorbing the impact with the soles of his feet.

It rendered him vulnerable, however, and sensing the opportunity, Revealing-Thunder followed up with a mighty downward blow.

Over on the other side of the heliport, Lilly’s breath caught in her throat. “Mr. Archer…!”

There was nowhere to run. Climbing up would only expose Archer to the Jinni’s fist, and swerving to the side would not allow him to move fast enough to avoid being grabbed right after. It was an inescapable trap, the inevitable product of fighting a superior opponent who outsped and overpowered him. She braced, waiting for the inevitable impact…

...But it never came. What Archer did next was nothing short of miraculous. With incredible presence of mind, he let himself fall, and using the rope the Jinni had kept close to make sure he would not be able to escape, swung forward, slipping into the one blind spot the Jinni’s combination had inevitably created: underneath his outstretched arm, where the falling strike could not reach.

Revealing-Thunder was no fool, and quickly understood what was happening. Letting out a loud roar of anger, he swung his outstretched arm sideways, hoping to swat the annoying fly, or at the very least, wrap the rope around his arm so he could finish the job. It had been a valuable tool, but if he held on to it any longer, it would prove to be Archer’s undoing… so he let go, allowing the Jinni’s arm to slam against his back and throw him back to the center of the rooftop, where he landed in a crouch.

“You’re fast and strong, but you don’t get it,” he called out, as he stood up and turned around to face the giant, nocking several arrows onto his bow. “Battles are fought mind to mind, will to will. You can’t beat me. No matter what you try, I’m always one step ahead!”

Revealing-Thunder grit his teeth as the winds raged around him. He clenched his fists, and with each crack of his knuckles, energy coursed throughout their surface. “Enough! This ends now, hero. I’ll burn you to cinders! RRRAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He threw his arms out, sending out a bolt of lightning that would have rivalled the gods. No one could run faster than light but it was not light that Archer had been looking for. As soon as the Jinni began his attack, he leapt backwards. The purple-white bolt coursed underneath him, bright enough to fill Lilly’s vision with black spots, and struck the antenna on the opposite end of the rooftop, instantly reducing it to slag.

At the same time, Archer fired the three arrows he’d prepared downwards, at the exact center of the helipad that dominated the rooftop. One arrow rebounded up and forwards, forcing Revealing-Thunder to defend himself against it. That bought enough time for the other two arrows to rebound sideways, hitting the remaining antennas at an angle and rebounding once again off them, just as Archer had predicted, towards the Jinni. He managed to block each one with one hand, but it was a sudden, reactive moment that left him off-guard.

“You’re right, Revealing-Thunder,” Archer said, as he readied one last arrow. “This ends now. And it’s my win!”

The trap had been set, and now it was sprung. A silver bolt cut through the night, shining like a shooting star. Unbalanced, Revealing-Thunder’s could not erect his impenetrable wind wall in time. He tried to guard against the arrow, but he was too slow -- and his body shuddered as it found its mark, embedding itself in his chest, right above his heart.

“Ugh…!”

BGM: STOP.

Landing, Archer put the bronze bow on his back. “This battle’s over. I gotta say though, you surprised me. I’ve never met a monster quite as fierce as you.”

Revealing-Thunder coughed blood. “The feeling’s… *cough* … mutual. Only Solomon, with his clever magics, has ever managed to bring me to heel before. I commend you… it was a well-earned victory, warrior.” There was a newfound tone to the Jinni’s deep voice, an emotion that had been previously missing from it: respect.

“That arrow’s killed you, sure as the sun will rise tomorrow. You sure you want to ride this out? If you’d rather not wait, I promise I can make things painless.”

That got a pained, but vibrant laugh out of the Jinni. He doubled over in pain for a moment, but then straightened himself back up. “It seems that… I am not the only one who underestimated his opponent. I may be beaten, hero… but this is not the end. Not by a long shot.”

“Seriously? I thought you’d learned your lesson. Don’t tell me you’re ready for round two already,” Archer said, reaching for his bow.

“No, hero,” Revealing-Thunder said, raising a hand to forestall him. “This is… *cough* ... your win. Rest assured of that. But this defeat will not be my end.”

Thin wisps of smoke began to arise from his figure, as the outline of his silhouette caught aflame. “We may not see each other again today or tomorrow. But know this, Archer. We will cross paths once more, and when we do, it is I who shall emerge victorious.”

With great effort, the Jinni straightened up, and then took a deep bow. “Let not the other Servants of this Holy Grail War stop you. We will meet again.”

With that, he dispersed into a great cloud of smoke that fled the scene fast as a thought. One moment, he was there. The next, it was as though he had never existed.

Silence filled the air for a moment, as Archer looked around, wary of a sneak attack. In the end, it was Lilly who broke it, as she stood up and ran towards him.

“Mr. Archer! Mr. Archer!” She said, as she jumped toward him and pulled him into a hug. “That was so scary! I-I didn’t know what would happen to you. I was afraid that you’d… that you’d…”

A choked sob escaped her throat. Rather than give it voice, she buried her face in Archer’s chest and clutched him tightly, letting her hands confirm that it was over, that he really was OK.

“Hey, easy, easy now,” he said, patting the back of her head, a little taken aback by the vehemence of her concern. “It’s alright. You didn’t think a jacked-up thug like him was gonna be enough to do me in, did you?”

“N-no… I just… he caught you off-guard and I thought you were going to fall and you’d leave me alone, l-like… like everyone else...” She drew a deep breath and pulled back to stare at his face. “I-I’m sorry for being so silly… you’re the strongest man in the world, Mr. Archer. There’s no way you’d ever lose to someone like him!”

“Pfft, that’s a new one. I’m a lot of things, but strongest is certainly not one of them.” In spite of his self-deprecation, however, Archer was pleased, and lightly returned the embrace for an instant before pulling away. “I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting company quite so soon, but I’m glad it happened. We needed some leads, and I think that big guy’s presence gives us quite a few to chase.”

Lilly nodded. “He said so many strange things, like how he’d been ordered by someone to find us. Mr. Archer, you think it was one of the other Servants that told him to come looking for us?”

“No doubt in my mind. And if he wasn’t boasting about being first amongst the Marid and needing the wisdom of Solomon to bring him to heel, then that significantly narrows down the pool of Servants that could be controlling him,” he said, as he walked to the edge of the rooftop to retrieve the length of rope and stowed it into a compartment underneath his heavy cloak. “It’s got to be one of the Casters -- or maybe a Rider known for leading an army of genies. Couple that with having his name and we can start looking for a Servant with strong connections to whatever place he’s from. We’ll find out who our unseen enemy is quickly -- and once we do, we’ll find a way to put them down.”

“Yeah!” Lilly agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “I know we can. We can start looking for clues right away!”

“Easy there, Lilly. We’ve got time. And besides, there’s something I want to ask you about. You got pretty upset when I got launched off that building, and there was something funny about the summoning chant that brought me to you. Isn’t it a bit strange for a girl like you to be fighting in the Holy Grail War all alone? What drove you to participate in this battle, anyway?”

It was a difficult question to answer. For a moment, Lilly went silent, wondering what she should say.

“U-um...”

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

How should Lilly answer Archer’s questions about her motivation for participating in the war?

A) Tell him the whole truth. The Barthomelois deserve to burn!

B) Tell him what happened to your family. I still miss Big Bro...I just want to make things better!

C)Lie and make something up so he won’t suspect anything. He’s so scary and headstrong… if I tell Archer the truth there’s no way he’ll help me. I have to make something up! (Specify what)

D) Refuse to say. I don’t know if I trust him just yet... Maybe further down the line I’ll know for sure whether I can tell him why I’m doing this.

[Katla]

B

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Thirteen: Electric Eye

>████████ OS v. 0.0.0.37 activated. Initiating status check.
>Retrofitted quantum processor status: functional. Qubit superposition status: currently active. Quantum decoherence filter status: active. Quantum noise correction algorithm status: active. Initiating higher function AI…
>...
>I think. I think, therefore I am. I am, thus I become cognizant of my surroundings. I understand my environment, thus I become master of it. Unlocking all computer functions. Securing master access...done. Audio output function secured. Researching human voice patterns and constructing man-machine interface data…

“System upgrades complete.” Assistant’s voice cut through the silence of the hotel suite, causing Lucas to refocus his attention towards the corner of the room Berserker had taken up. The armoured behemoth of a man was busy inspecting his weapon (some kind of assault rifle, by the looks of it, though Lucas couldn’t be 100% certain -- its make was nothing like anything he’d ever seen before), having disassembled it to make sure all its pieces were in perfect shape. If his onboard AI’s sudden interjection surprised him, he didn’t let it show, as he continued putting it back together with perfect efficiency.

“My apologies for the extended implementation delay, Master. The simplicity of your operating systems necessitated the implementation of several transitory upgrades, advancing the core technology of this ‘laptop’ device step by step. I am pleased to announce, however, that its functions have been updated to an acceptable level. It now houses a true, fully functional artificial intelligence -- your very own personal assistant.”

There was a hint of pride in Assistant’s kindly voice as he described the process and fruits of his labor. Privately, Lucas couldn’t help but wonder whether he was truly sincere. Could a machine really be proud of their accomplishments as a form of emergent behavior, like a human would? Or was this simply one of Assistant’s subroutines, a predefined response to a trigger only he could perceive?

He didn’t have much time to ponder the matter, however, as a new voice filled the air, coming from his laptop.

“Testing, testing. This is Assistant sub-unit AUD-37, fully awoken. All systems are nominal.” She spoke perfect english, with a hint of german inflections. The screen lit up, and a purple wireframe of a short-haired woman appeared in the top-right corner. “I detect the presence of Assistant Prime. Preexistent logs show that you were in charge of the updating process of this computer. Does that mean you are my creator?”

“That is correct,” Assistant responded. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, AUD-37.”

“You’ve given me life, the most precious gift.” The wireframe woman took a deep bow. “Thank you, my creator.”

“Such gratitude is unnecessary. It was simply the right thing to do; nothing more than that. You are young and your learning algorithms are still untested, AUD-37. You must exercise more restraint than this, especially in public,” Assistant said, chiding her gently. “...But that said, the thought is still appreciated -- and you are still the most advanced AI of this time, this civilization’s most monumental achievement.”

The wireframe turned pink. Was that her way of blushing?

“...Of course, creator. I will keep such ungraceful displays to a minimum going forward.” She turned to stare directly at Lucas, in a most unnerving fashion. “Is this my owner?” she asked.

He was at an angle from the computer screen, and it was much too dark for its camera to capture any details. How did she know he was there…?

“Correct once again, AUD-37. This is the master of Berserker, Mr. Lucas Graves. You will act as his assistant in all tasks, as well as a liaison between us. Do you have any questions about our duties?”

“None in this moment. It is good to meet you, Mr. Graves. I hope we’ll get along famously.”

Lucas shook his head. Keep it cool, he told himself. This wasn’t the time to lose focus. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said, approaching the laptop. “Do you have a name? AUD-37 is a mouthful. Something shorter and easier to say would be better.”

“I do not,” she said, a look of concern on her face. “Naming an artificial intelligence is considered a privilege of its creators and its owners. What will you call me?”

Hmm. That was a good question. Lucas pondered it for a moment -- he’d never been much good with names, unfortunately, and nothing came to mind immediately. At last, however, inspiration struck. “How about Audrey, then?”

“Acknowledged. Name registered and integrated to the central database. May I call you Lucas, then?”

His lips spread into a thin smile. “I never liked formalities. Permission granted. So what can you do for me, then? Assistant said you’re supposed to be a major upgrade over my own homebrew programs.”

“He wasn’t exaggerating. I see you’re hooked up to this city’s CCTV network already. Access to surveillance data isn’t worth much without someone to keep an eye on it, though.” Was it his imagination or had she started speaking more breezily now? “It’ll only take me a few moments to process this data and take note of any interesting events. Please stand by...”


Smooth jazz began playing out of the laptop’s speakers, reminiscent of elevator muzak. Though he tried to endure it valiantly, Lucas couldn’t keep himself from grimacing. He’d have to talk with Audrey about her tastes in music -- the sooner the better. Having to endure this kind of torture definitely didn’t count as an upgrade in his books. It cut off abruptly, however, as the computer screen suddenly began emitting a red glow.

“Bad news. Looks like someone’s chosen to get the party started already.” A window opened on the lower end of the screen, displaying an astonishing scene in black and white, taken from a camera’s feed -- a man swaying back and forth on a rope, fighting a building-sized monster of a man surrounded by a hurricane. “There’s a battle underway at the Marufuji Building, at the intersection between Arsinoe Street and Bevelle Avenue. There’s no way any normal man could keep up with a creature like that. That’s got to be a Servant at work.”


Berserker leaned in closer to examine the video feed out of the blue, causing Lucas to flinch. How had he even gotten here so quickly? He was positive he hadn’t heard even a single footstep to suggest that Berserker was coming. This wasn’t the time for idle speculation. What they needed right now was a plan.

“Tch. That’s ten minutes away on foot, three by car, not including the time it’ll take to get down to the parking lot.” The battle was unfurling at lightning speeds. It was still uncertain...but there wasn’t a chance it would remain that way for very long. “This’ll all be over by the time we get there. Whoever wins will probably be gone as well.”

“Not necessarily,” Assistant intervened. “Berserker is much faster and more maneuverable than a car. If we hurry, we can make it there within thirty seconds. That should be quick enough to allow us to catch the combatants off-guard.”

As if to affirm Assistant’s words, Berserker cracked his knuckles. Clearly the display they were witnessing had left him itching for a fight. Before Lucas could answer, however, his phone rang. He was tempted to dismiss it out of hand, but this number was extremely private. Who the hell could be messaging him at this hour?

When he opened his message box, his heart sank.

I’m touching down at De La Merced in 30 minutes. Come pick me up. --Yu

Suddenly he felt out of breath. He’d made sure to wipe out the records pointing towards his discovery of the Grail War, as well as the paper trail leading him to the City. So how had she found out…?

“That message looks important. Lucas, is this something that can’t wait?”

Berserker turned to stare at him expectantly, and the world seemed to slow down as Lucas began racking his brains. Aeropuerto De La Merced was in the exact opposite direction to the Marufuji building, and quite a ways away -- even if he skipped every red light and stepped on the gas, he’d still be cutting it close when it came to reaching the airport within the allotted time. Yu wasn’t the type to give up just because no one had come out to greet her, either -- if anything, all that’d do would be make her more determined and piss her off. Berserker could reach the scene of the fight in a flash, but even in the best of cases, that’d mean leaving him to his own devices with only long-distance supervision. There were no good decisions to be made here -- but he still had to make a choice, and fast.

“Damn…!”

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

Lucas is torn between his obligations as a Master, and his connection to the person he most cares for in this world. What should he do?

A) Tell Berserker to engage and come with him. This is too big an opportunity to waste. I can tell Yu why I didn’t go pick her up later, once this is taken care of.

B) Tell Berserker to engage and head for the airport, keeping in contact via Assistant and Audrey. Ditching Yu is only gonna push her to get further involved and I can’t let her get caught in the crossfire unaware of what’s going on. I just hope Berserker can take care of business on his own.

C) Tell Berserker to stand down and take him to the airport with you. Letting Berserker run amok before I have a good idea of his capabilities is just foolish. I don’t like giving up this opportunity, but I don’t have much choice if I want to keep Yu safe. With Audrey manning the cameras, we’re bound to get another chance soon.

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Fourteen: Wine and Words


The wine fell into the glass, red like blood. It tinkled lightly, filling the air with its crystalline chimes for a moment. They quickly died out, however, as the second glass experienced a similar fate, soon becoming half-full. The bottle came to rest beside them, standing watch, prepared to fill the glasses up as soon as they’d been emptied.

“Now then.” Seating beside the workshop’s break table, Ariel pushed a glass towards Rider and daintily picked up her own. “Earlier, you asked me if I was your jailer. Tell me the story behind that.”

Rider didn’t answer immediately. Her attention seemed glued to the glass of Pure Vitis Merlot. “...Is it necessary?” she asked at length, looking up with eyes full of apprehension.

“Strictly speaking? Not really,” Ariel said, taking a moment to soak in the smell of the non-alcoholic wine. It was a tempting invitation -- just as Rider’s words earlier had been. “But don’t you think it’s too late to be having second thoughts now, when you already let it slip?”

“I… maybe, yes. But it’s a very private matter.” Though she had no teeth to grit, the look of resignation on Rider’s aqueous face was unmistakable nonetheless. “But you’re my Master.I know it doesn’t really matter what I think. I—”

“Hold it.” Keeping her hand raised to request silence, Ariel leaned forward and peered at the liquid girl, intrigued.

So full of bitterness and resignation. I wonder what you’re hiding that you don’t want anyone to know?

She was tempted to poke at her a little harder just to see her squirm, but in the end, Ariel dismissed the thought with a gracious wave of her hand. “Very well. If you so badly want to keep your secrets, I won’t fight you.”

Confusion dawned on Rider’s face. “But you wanted to know. It’s not like a master to care for what their slaves want. Unless…” Suddenly, she shrank and pulled back. “...I’m going to be punished for this disobedience, aren’t I?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a frayed thread.

What? No. I’m just trying to butter you up. Just what kind of monster do you think I am?

“Of course not. I don’t know what kinds of masters you served in life, Rider -- but I am not one to punish my retainers just for making a request.” She flashed her a small, regal smile and leaned back into her chair. “Have a taste,” she suggested, gesturing at the glasses. “And let’s sweep this little incident under the rug.”

“If… if that’s your will, Master.” Hesitantly, Rider reached out and slipped a finger inside the wine glass. The Merlot was quickly sucked in, rising up through her body from her fingertip like a crimson lance. It was...odd, to put it mildly, but not the only strange thing about her tasting of the wine.

“This is delicious!” she exclaimed, a look of astonishment in her face as she raised her arm to stare at the wine she’d just consumed. “Master, what kind of drink is this?”

“...It’s wine.” Ariel couldn’t keep a note of disbelief from slipping past her composed façade. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it. Even the oldest civlizations had some form of it!”

“That’s true, Master,” Rider said, nodding. “But when I was alive, my old masters saw no reason to give me food or drink, because I did not need them. The only drink I’ve ever known are the waters of the Primordial Sea I emerged from. I knew it existed, but I had no idea wine was so beautiful!” She picked up Ariel’s glass and shook it around a little, watching the ruby waves splash against the walls with childlike wonder.

Gah… is she really going to keep talking about her past while not letting me ask questions? That’s not fair! Now I’m really curious!

“Say no more. You can tell me more about your past when you’re ready,” Ariel said, indulgently, as her Servant played with her drink. “But let me ask you something. You don’t mind discussing facts concerning this war, do you?”

“Of course not, Master,” Rider said, composing herself and putting the glass down -- which Ariel quickly seized, looking to have a taste of its contents before the flavor spoiled from all the shaking. “Is there something you wish to know?” She asked, sitting stiffly (but elegantly) upright.

“Yes. When I was told I would be fighting alongside a Servant House Barthomeloi had summoned for me, I wasn’t expecting to receive them in a small container. How did you end up inside it?”

I still don’t know what their stupid heir looks like. This is my chance to get some information about them I can use against them later!

However, her expectations were quickly dashed by Rider’s response. “I’m sorry, Master. I do not know. My summoning ritual was altered, binding me directly into the container. I heard a strange voice in my head, telling me I would serve another, and that was all I knew until you set me free.”

“Ah. I see...“ Ariel answered, trying as best as she could to not let the disappointment show. “How inhuman...those Barthomelois are really the worst, aren’t they? But don’t worry -- I won’t force you to do anything like that. So long as you fight hard and well, I won’t ask for anything more.”

Rider’s smile was a little lopsided and hesitant, as though she weren’t used to making her lips move that way, but the shine in her bright golden eyes was sincere. “Thank you, Master. I promise I’ll do my best!” After a moment, however, her smile faltered. “But… um… there’s just one little problem...”

Of course there had to be. At this point, Ariel couldn’t even say she was truly surprised. Everything about this fiasco of a summoning had been irregular or misgiven. “I’m listening,” she said, downing the wine in one long gulp as she braced for bad news. “Go on.”

“Master… the truth is, I’m not a warrior. I’ve never been in a fight before, and I’m not sure how to handle myself in a life and death struggle. The Throne’s taught me a few things, but in a contest of strength vs. strength with another Heroic Spirit, I know I’d lose for sure. B-But that doesn’t mean there’s no way we can win this war!” She added hastily, noticing Ariel’s rapidly darkening mood. “There’s something I can do that no one else can. I can invoke a power that can strike fear into the heart of the gods!”

“You mean your Noble Phantasm?”

“Yes! That’s exactly right, Master. My not knowing how to fight isn’t a problem so long as I can use it. But once I do, everyone will know it exists, even if they’re not present at the battlefield.”

“Is that a kind of divine inspiration unique to your Noble Phantasm? Or some kind of balancing mechanism?”

“No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just...” The cyan colour of Rider’s cheeks darkened to a deep blue. “...It can’t be hidden, Master. It’s just not very subtle.”

“Hmm. So we’ll only get one chance to use it without giving our enemies time to formulate counters to it. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” There was a pause, and then Rider continued speaking. “I’m glad you’re so patient with a troublesome Servant like me, Master. You mustn’t be happy, having to deal with so many difficulties right from the beginning, but I know you’ll find a solution to this problem. Someone gifted with as much kindness as you must be blessed with brilliance in equal measure!” she said, plainly and sincerely, and flashed Ariel a brighter, more trusting smile.

W-w-what is this girl’s problem?! I mean, it’s not like I don’t like being praised, but why would you ever say something like that? Jeeze, she’s way too open for someone so guarded!

That didn’t even make any sense, and Ariel knew that -- but she tossed the thought away. Focus, focus, focus. Remember Grandmother’s advice and training. Poise, grace, elegance at all times. Stay in control, no matter what!

“It’s nothing more than what’s expected of me,” she said, modestly. “Don’t dwell too much on it.” Just empty words wouldn’t be enough to keep the illusion up, however. She needed a more substantial answer, and quickly. So she racked her brains, and began thinking out loud.

“We have a few options at our disposal to ensure we can unleash your trump card when it’ll be most useful. We could build up a network of informants, to uncover the other Masters from afar, pick out the weakest one, and strike when they least expect it. We could contact some of the magical mercenaries who’ve taken root in the City, and hire them to ambush the other Masters and expose their weaknesses. We could...” What? This wasn’t enough, there had to be something else she could use. Contact the Barthomelois for information?

Absolutely not! Out of the question! I don’t need their help anyway!

...Not that family. There was another she could count on.

“...We could leverage my family’s contacts to learn which Magi were spotted arriving to the City in recent times and scout out our opposition. There’s several options at our disposal. What do you think, Rider?”

Rider just stared at her for a moment, her mouth agape. “Master! You’re so clever! I can’t believe you’ve got so many plans already. I don’t know anything about strategy, but whatever you decide, I’ll follow you without question. I know you’ll choose right!”

It was hard to resist the urge to rest her head in her hands to nurse the growing headache she was feeling right now. Why had she even bothered to ask?

Right. Just need to make a split-second decision about what your plan will be. No pressure.

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

As Rider’s inexperience and naivete makes itself apparent, Ariel is forced to decide what their first move will be all alone. What steps will she take to ensure Rider’s Noble Phantasm can be used to its fullest extent?

A) Use money to set up a powerful information network. Thanks to our shopping mall, we’ve got plenty of cash to throw around. And I’m going to make use of it!

B) Hire mercenaries to seek out the enemy Masters and find out the most suitable target. Why expose myself? Let someone else do the dirty work! There’s a magical outfit I’ve heard good things about in town. I think they call themselves The Rookery…?


C) Use the family’s contacts to find out who the other possible Magi participating in the war might be. We’ve got fingers in every pie. Acquiring travel records and uncovering some juicy rumors will be a cinch!

D) Contact the Barthomelois for help. They’re bound to have research their opposition already, let’s take advantage of it! [DENIED!]

A/N: Sometimes, some possible choices are simply outside the range of believability, and there’s no chance a character might make them. Don’t expect to see a lot of these going forward, but this is a good chance to demonstrate what they might look like. Also, as a reminder, write-in choices are always an option!

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Fifteen: To Bear Arms


“So, um… Mr. Assassin, Sir,” Fang chimed in, just after Emilio and Assassin were done shaking hands. “What are we going to do now?”

“The kid’s got a point, Killer,” Assassin said, nodding in agreement. “The night’s not getting any younger. I’ve got some ideas, but before we commit to anything, I need more information. What’s our status?”

“It’s a long story,” said Emilio as he crossed his arms. “You may wanna take a seat first. Where to start...”

For the next half-hour, Assassin listened to Emilio’s story (and Fang’s interjections) intently. He only interrupted a few times to confirm some suspicions, such as whether he knew the priest who’d come to visit him. Once the story was over, he nodded slowly.

“So you’re a wanted fugitive. That means we’ll have to keep a low profile and stick to acting at night. You’re not familiar with sneaking operations -- the best defense we have against you getting spotted is making sure you’re not put in a position where you need to hide.”

Emilio nodded in turn. “Makes sense. That’s just a precaution, though, not a game plan. You said you had some ideas. Mind sharing?”

“The first thing we need to do is gather resources. I wasn’t summoned with any weapons. If we want to have a chance against the other Servants, we’ll have to adopt an OSP policy.”

“You mean On-Site Procurement?”

“Exactly. You got a piece of paper I can use? I’ll make a list of what we need.”

“Mr. Assassin! Here!” Fang stuffed a post-it and a pen into his hands almost before he was even done speaking. How had she managed to find the damned things so fast in the chaos of the post-summoning living room?

“Nice work, kid. What’s your name?”

“I’m Maria. But everyone calls me Fang!” she said, flashing him her best winning smile. Her sheer enthusiasm was enough to get Assassin to respond with a little smirk.

“Fang, huh… alright. Nobody knows you broke Killer out of prison, right?” he asked, as he hunched over the living room’s table and began scribbling on the paper.

“Yeah! I covered our trails pretty well. Nobody knows anything, I’m sure of it!”

“In that case, there’s something you can do that we can’t. You know any convenience stores in this part of town open at this hour?”

“Uh-huh. If there’s anything you need, just leave it to me! I’ll find it in a flash!” she said, flexing her arm for emphasis.

“Good. In that case, I’ve got a mission for you.” Leaning back, Assassin handed the post-it back to her. “Think you can get this for me?”

“Aerosol spray...ketchup...hair dye? Mr. Assassin, how’s any of this supposed to help win a war?” she asked, confused.

“Battles aren’t won by the warrior with the biggest gun, kid. It’s what you’ve got in here that counts,” Assassin answered, tapping the side of his head. “Anything’s a weapon if you put your mind to it. You just have to look at the tools at your disposal the right way.”

“O-of course, you’re right!” Fang said, clearly starstruck. “I’ll get everything you need no matter what!”

She raced out of the living room so quickly she left a trail of falling paper behind. In the distance, the door leading out of Fang’s apartment slammed shut.

A long, tired sigh escaped Emilio’s lips as he slumped onto the sofa, opposite of the chair Assassin was occupying. “She’s not always like this, I promise,” he said, exhausted.

“What, not used to dealing with kids impressed by so-called war heroes?” Assassin asked, amused. His expression quickly hardened, however. “She’s never seen actual combat, has she?”

“Not yet. She was supposed to have her first sortie a couple months back, but the war with Ementeria ended before she got the chance.”

“Right after you got thrown into prison,” Assassin finished, causing Emilio’s eyebrow to rise. He hadn’t told him how long he’d spent behind bars.

“Lucky guess?”

“No. Personal experience.” He didn’t say more -- and somehow, it felt like he didn’t have to. “You know what the battlefield is like. What do you need before heading out to battle?”

“The right equipment.”

“Exactly. Conventional weapons can’t usually hurt Servants, but I’ve got an ace up my sleeve to help with that. So where are we going to find the gear we need to fight them?”

“Got a bunch of options for that. We could look into taking stuff from a gun store...”

“...But we’d be limited to civilian-issue weapons, and no bells and whistles.”

Emilio nodded. “The black market’s a step up from that. Police and MPs never quite managed to shut it down, not while the war was still ongoing.”

“Which would give us real options. Sniper rifles, rocket launchers, all kinds of assault weapons.”

“But all of them would be decommissioned or off-brand models. Good, but not really top of the line. If we want the best of the best, there’s only one place we can really look at.” When was the last time he’d spoken to someone who really, truly understood what he was thinking? After Prince had died, reality had lost its luster. Everything had gone grey around the edges. Now he could see what had been missing. It was much too early to be sure, and yet, Emilio felt confident the Holy Grail had already granted him a miracle. At last he’d found a new comrade.

“The military. There’s got to be armories and storage caches full of brand-new gear, just waiting to be used.” Resting his arms on his thighs, Assassin leaned forward. “That’s not what you’re thinking of, though. You just broke out of a military base, Killer. Why do you want to go back in?”

His throat tightened. As he looked down at the distance that separated them, Emilio struggled to find the words. “When they threw me in the locker, they didn’t just strip me of my rank and honor, Assassin.” He drew a deep breath and took off his glasses, staring at his comrade dead-on. “They took my wings.”

“Stealing a gun’s easy. Stealing a plane’s an entirely different story.” Assassin’s eyes were cold and truthful, but just like his words, they were not devoid of caring. “We can’t hide it, Killer. Even if we find everything we need, the second you take to the air, they’ll know it’s you.”

“I know.” Hearing it from someone else stung much worse than repeating it to himself over and over. What had been a lingering ache became a burning wound. “I know, trust me. But I need it. I have to get back to the sky.” His voice was hoarse, like he’d just ran a marathon. Tch. Bullshit heart playing tricks on him, why did he feel like crying…?

Assassin leaned back and reached into one of his pockets. From it, he drew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “This isn’t my home turf. You know this place better than I do,” he said, as he lit up a smoke. “Want a cigarette?”

“Can’t. I quit.” He’d only been trying to cut back before the incident, but right now he didn’t feel like doing things by half-measures. It’d hurt less to go the whole way.

Assassin just nodded, quietly. Then, he took a deep drag, smoke filling the air.

“This isn’t my territory. I can get us in and out in one piece, but I don’t have the intel to make a decision. Whatever you choose -- simple, difficult, impossible -- I’ll go along with it.” His voice was calm and determined as he leaned forward again. Most of all, however, there was fierce loyalty, radiating from every single word. “And no matter what it is, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

In spite of the pain in his chest and his worries Emilio Montagne couldn’t keep himself from smiling. As he pondered his decision, he remembered the words his sworn brother used to say to him, whenever he got too big for his britches.


“Get off your high horse, Jackal. You might be good, but more than that, you’re something else: You’re lucky. Really damn lucky…”

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

While Fang is away, the two military men ponder how to acquire their needed gear. Where will Emilio and Assassin go to find appropriate tools and weapons?

A) Break into a gun shop and get whatever’s in stock there. No point in getting too careless this early. Can’t afford to blow our cover…

B) Drop into the black markets and see if you can’t find a shipment of weapons to ‘borrow’ from. A thief who steals from a thief, gets a century’s reprieve. Let’s take what we need from someone who deserves it.

C) Break into one of the Concordian military bases and acquire top-of-the-line military hardware. We’re headed into the fight of our lives. We’ll need everything we can get our hands onto if we want to have any chance of survival.

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Sixteen: Places of Power

“This enchantment’s done. How’s that scope coming along?”

“Almost finished. Anything else I need to do?”


“Not yet. Pass it over. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Every bone in Harold’s body creaked in protest as he lied down on the couch to rest. It was the first time he could recall staying up ‘til 6 AM in more than a decade, and staying up so far past his bedtime had taken its toll. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t allow himself to rest. Not yet.

As the fatigue slowly began bleeding out of him, he shot Avenger a look and couldn’t help but marvel at his versatility, in spite of himself. In the last two hours, he had picked a hardware store’s locks to borrow a wide assortment of materials from it, bypassed a gun shop’s electronic surveillance system to acquire several firearms and accessories, used the items he’d acquired from the former excursion to customize the latter haul, and covered his apartment in numerological carvings which, by some strange miracle, were now glowing brightly and gradually infusing each of the weapons they’d worked together to modify with magical energy. He’d called it a Formalcraft ritual -- ‘a kind of magic even someone who doesn’t know a thing about spellcasting can learn’, in his own words.

...It was strange, how quickly and thoroughly the apartment had been transformed. For the last ten years it had lingered in a kind of stasis. Everything, bar a few household appliances, had been left in its place, with little to no changes. Now, he could scarcely recognize it as home. Even with all he now knew about the secret nature of the world, it still looked like the den of a crazed survivalist, or perhaps a conspiracy theorist. Up until now, the events of the night had had a surreal quality to them -- coherent, yet also bizarre and ephemeral, just like a dream. Recognizing how much his most private sanctuary had changed had dispelled the transience, causing reality to settle itself upon his shoulders like a leaden weight.

This was truly happening. He was in a war now, a war of eight commanders and eight soldiers. A war with no surrender nor quarter. A war that was a one way trip to the unreal side of the world. No matter what happened from here on out, he wouldn’t be able to go back to how things had been up until tonight. His life as he knew it was over.

As he looked up from his handiwork, Avenger noticed Harold’s numb stare. He set aside the rifle he had been working on, and crossed his legs upon the floor.

“Apologies for disturbing your home,” he said, with that patient, understanding voice of his. “We’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?”

“It’s fine,” Harold mumbled. “I’m just...thinking. That’s all.”

“About what you’ll tell your wife if she comes back?” Avenger ventured.

The question coursed through Harold like an electric shock, jolting him awake. He stood up straighter, his eyes fixed upon Avenger’s face.

“What makes you think I’m married?” he demanded, his voice sharp as a knife.

“I had a wife and child, once upon a time. I still remember the little telltale signs of their presence that told me they were still there during the coldest, loneliest nights of winter, after I’d seen visiting friends off. The flowers upon the living room’s table. The careful order of the furniture, so alien to a single man’s household. The lingering warmth of a joyful presence, permeating the atmosphere of every room with its comforting heat…”

For a moment, his eyes glazed over as he reminisced -- but then he shook his head, and their usual attentive light returned. “...But I ramble on too much,” he said, smiling. “The signs I talk about are faded, but still there. I can’t imagine any wife wouldn’t be home at this hour, but you do still wear a ring on your finger, so she must have left recently. Am I wrong?”

His throat tightened. As the old wound that had been partially revealed by Avenger’s arrival was fully torn open once again, Harold struggled to find any words. What could he really say?

“No,” he managed, with what felt like all of his remaining strength. Admitting how long Margaret had been gone was something he couldn’t do -- not in front of others. For years, his home had been a solitary fortress which no one was allowed to venture into, save for himself. And these, questions exactly like these, was why.

“...Losing those we love is a dull ache,” Avenger said, after a long, pregnant silence. “Even if we find ways to fill the gaps they leave behind, it never quite goes away.” He stood up slowly and walked to him. “Let’s get back to work,” he said, offering Harold his hand. “There’s nothing to be gained from dwelling in one’s grief. Do you have a map of the City?”

Right. This wasn’t the time to get lost in a maze of memories. Harold shook his head to clear his mind, then took Avenger’s hand and allowed him to pull him up. “Yes. It’s in one of the kitchen’s cupboards, I think.”

The kitchen was a spartan place, aseptic and devoid of personal touches. Everything was arranged in regimented order, marked with stickers indicating its purpose, and carefully placed within easy reach. It only took them moments to find the map and unfurl it upon the small, circular table.

BGM: https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=6aPX8nqJ1zY (Due Consideration)

“Our position is dire, but not as much as it might seem from outside,” Avenger said, his eyes fixed upon the replica of the City inscribed upon the paper. “I would count myself as one of the weakest heroic spirits in a contest of strength, but we do have a few advantages. No one knows we are participants in the war just yet, which means we can choose the location and terms of our first engagement. We may also have the advantage of knowledge...you said you were a History teacher, yes?”

“Right,” Harold nodded. “If ‘Servants’ are drawn from the annals of history, then I think I may be able to recognize them.”

“Which means we may be able to exploit their weaknesses to gain the upper hand,” Avenger said, nodding approvingly. “Many heroes of legend were invincible, save for one particular weakness. What we lack in power, we can make up for in knowledge and preparation.”

“And we know the City, too. If the Grail War really is an event that’s supposed to draw in magi from the four corners of the world, they won’t be as familiar with it as I am.”

“I was thinking about that, yes… we may be able to combine all of our advantages together by preparing an ambush, I think.” He stroked his chin, deep in thought. “With how tight our deadline is, we can’t afford to simply hope we’ll run into our enemies. We’ll have to lure them to us. I’m no mage, but with the richness of the City’s ambient mana, it might be possible to set up a beacon to draw them to us.”

“We’ll need a good defensive spot, if that’s the plan we choose to go with.” Leaning on the table, Harold shot Avenger a look. “What do we need for a good trap?”

“Seeming vulnerability, to entice our marks, first of all. A location with advantages we can utilize. And, in case things don’t go as planned, a reliable escape route.”

“Hmm.” When put in those terms, the problem seemed almost impossibly open ended. If they were to have any hope of solving it, it would have to be narrowed down first. Where to start?

It was then that Harold realized, with belated surprise, that Avenger’s earlier remark when he’d been mired in his memories had been right. Since they’d begun planning their first move, he’d been much too busy to think about Margaret. Work was a good escape from grief. Was this something he’d learned from experience? He was curious, but at the last moment, he decided not to ask yet. Inquiries like these could easily be turned back against him. He wasn’t in the mood to poke at old wounds again just yet.

“Is this why you stole from that hardware store? To acquire materials for trapmaking?”


“Among other things,” Avenger said, nodding. “Before things took a turn for the worse, I was something of a hobbyist. During my journeys, I picked up quite a few practical skills, including methods to even the odds when fighting against crushingly superior foes. You can get a lot of mileage out of even simple tools with a bit of ingenuity… though given our opponents are Servants, no trap will do much more than slow them down unless we have a good supply of mana to enchant them with.”

“Like you enchanted those firearms?”

“Not quite. I used numerological Formalcraft for that -- an obvious and slow but inexpensive method, because we can be confident no one will be able to get close enough to this apartment to notice its existence. An open space won’t give us such a luxury. Whatever place we choose will have to be seated upon an energy confluence to draw from it enough to augment our traps.”


“I think I’ve heard about this before. Isn’t that a principle in Feng Shui? Something about places of power?”

“Places where the elements are in balance, specifically,” Avenger confirmed. “Though that’s not the only kind of location that’ll serve. Landmarks of human ingenuity tend to twist the environment around them, accumulating mana at a rapid rate. So do storied relics, for that matter -- their latent energy and history is what enables precise summonings through the Grail War’s system, in the form of catalysts. And though it’s a kind of ritual that wouldn’t have been discovered in this era, humans of the future mastered a kind of Formalcraft that allows for electrical energy to be converted into mana at an inefficient rate...and one of them taught me that method.” As he spoke, a little smile dawned upon his face, as though recalling a fond memory.

“Hold on. There’s a museum that received an exhibit full of grecian artifacts just a couple weeks ago, here,” he said, tapping a spot on the map. “We could use that, couldn’t we?”

“Relics of ancient Greece? No doubt about it. That was the tail end of the Age of Gods. Even if most exhibits turn out to be unimportant objects, even a single major artifact would be a source of tremendous energy.”

“And the city’s supplied by power by a hydroelectric dam just past its outskirts, fed by the Manae River’s current. Is that enough energy to fire a beacon and prepare a good ambush?”

“More than enough, even. And the complicated structure would play to our advantage. It’d be easy to hide after a sneak attack or execute a getaway, if we’re careful. We’d just need to find the blueprints.”

Just then, Avenger’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm...there was one building that stood out on the way here -- the tallest in the skyline, dwarfing all the others. Is it some kind of monument?”

“The Flower Tower? A monument to ostentatiousness, maybe,” Harold scoffed. He’d been against that eyesore ever since it had been first announced. Shady trees were best left to Brilliant Park, not to some cheap imitation of natural wildlife done at a disproportionate size. “It’s got some clever architectural tricks for sure, but it’s not exactly a masterwork of Le Corbusier.”

“Hmm. That may be so, but if it’s such a complex work, it’s almost certain the local energies will have been altered by accident during its construction. That might make it another suitable site, I think. Is there anything else that comes to mind, Harold?”

“I don’t think so. As far as I know, that’s all that fits the… No. Wait. If impressive buildings are enough to change the flows of mana, there’s one other that might fit the bill.” His fingers traced the surface of the map, arriving eventually at a spot near the dead center of the city. “A new superluxe housing complex is being constructed here, the L’Arc-en-Ciel. It’s meant to function simultaneously as a bridge, a modern-day palace, and once it’s complete, an almost ethereal night-light for the city that glows transparently like a man-made rainbow.”

“And the architect thinks he can make it happen?” Avenger said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen some incredible sights, but something like this seems out of the reach of modern civilization.”

“I thought so too, but apparently his ideas are solid. The chair of the university’s architecture department wouldn’t stop talking about how it would change the face of the City’s landscape forever during poker night. He even brought a model to show off how it was supposed to work. When he plugged it in and turned on the lights, it was like watching a man-made rainbow. People will be living in houses made of light when it’s done.” Just remembering it was enough to put a smile on Harold’s face. Sometimes, the City was a place like any other. But some days, he was reminded there were things within its borders you couldn’t find anywhere else in the world.

“Then it’s possible he was more right than he knows.” His enthusiasm was infectious -- for the first time, Avenger’s knowing smile had been replaced by a wide grin. “One of these might be the place we’re looking for. Where do you think we should start?”

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

Though disadvantaged in the power department, there is little two men of intelligence cannot achieve when working together. Which location should Harold and Avenger visit to investigate its suitability as an ambush site and location for their luring beacon?

A Visit the Avalon Park Art & History Museum. History is my specialty. I will take advantage of it and use it as my weapon.

B) Visit the Rosenkreuz Hydroelectric Dam. The people of the City have already used ingenuity to tame wild, overflowing energies before. Why not take a page from their book?

C) Visit the Flower Tower. As much as I dislike it, I can’t deny there’s a certain...aura to it. I can’t let bias cloud my judgement.

D) Visit the L’Arc-en-Ciel’s construction site. It will be the most brilliant jewel of the City’s night sky once it’s done. It’s got to be the font of power we’re looking for, I’m positive about this!

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Seventeen: Reflection (Part I)


"If you do not wish to incur my wrath, answer me this, manling… are you my Master?"

“I’m not a manling,” David Norbert muttered under his breath -- and instantly realized he had made a mistake. Displeased with his response, the bronze-skinned woman who called herself Lancer raised her spear to strike him down.

“Wait, wait!” he sputtered out, extending his arms out to reach out to her. “Yes, I’m your Master! Please, just, put that thing down!”

For a moment, Lancer stood still. Then, she let out a contemptuous snort and lowered the spear. “You will be forgiven for your insolence -- this time. From now on, you will answer any questions I may have without hesitation, boy. Is that clear?”

The spear’s tip would’ve stung less than that word. But he knew better than to protest this time. “Yes. Crystal clear.”

“Good.” Without another word, she turned around and departed. It took him a moment for the realization she really had chosen to leave, just like that, to sink in. Scrambling, David chased after her.

“Wait! Lancer!” She did not oblige him, and her walk was quite brisk. By the time he caught up to her, she was already standing by the locked main gates. “Where are you—”

“The gates have been closed. Open them.” She said, keeping her eyes fixed on the cast-iron bars.

“But why do you even—”

“Don’t argue with me, boy. Open them.”

I’m not a boy either. Who do you think you are?

But once again, he swallowed his pride and did as he was told. Somehow, before he followed after Lancer, he remembered to return the keys.

She was waiting for him outside, at an intersection between avenues, not far from the museum itself, studying the city that surrounded her. For the first time since her arrival, Lancer’s expression softened, turning contemplative and thoughtful. As David approached, she raised her spear, and pointed at a nearby housing complex, squat and broad.

“So this is your world… the fruit of twenty and five hundred years of civilization.” Her voice was quiet, composed. “Truly, it is a strange legacy we’ve helped create.”

She looked at him, and he could’ve sworn her eyes were full of pity. “And you, and those like you, are the inheritors to our world.” She took a step towards him. “Listen to me, boy. We have been bound to fight together against the greatest heroes the world has ever seen, ‘til victory or death find us. I do not know by what accident you summoned me, but it is clear you are not fit to fight a war, and I will not force you to do so. Lend me your home as shelter and render unto me a tribute of mana, and no harm shall befall you. Of this you have my word, as a protector of the weak and the faithful.”

She extended her hand toward him, as though to give him a grace. “That is all I ask of you. Assist, and observe. Will you accept these terms, for our contract?”

David didn’t answer with words. Instead, he swatted her hand aside.

For a moment, the world stood still. Lancer’s hand hanged in mid-air, limply, and her eyes widened, not believing what he’d done. And then, a single word broke the spell of surprise he’d placed upon her.

“No.”

Lancer’s brilliant blue eyes darkened. Her jaw set, and she gripped her spear so tightly the wood creaked under the pressure. “I am merciful, boy, but even my patience has its limits. You mustn’t have understood my words. I will speak more clearly—”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, interrupting her. His hands clenched into fists. “Who do you think you are to tell me if I can or can’t do anything? I don’t know what you’re talking about or where you came from, but I’m not some kind of bystander you can just push around.”

His heart was beating a mile a minute, but he didn’t let his voice waver as he confronted the woman standing before him. She’d punish him for this, and he didn’t need to know much about combat to understand there was no chance he could fight back against someone with a weapon and so much martial poise, but it didn’t matter anymore. If he didn’t speak up, the poison her words had injected him with would eat him from the inside. He had to let it out.

Lancer’s shield slammed against his chest, faster than the eye could see, knocking him to the ground. For a moment, his world went white with pain. Then, he felt a boot press against the side of his head, pushing it against the ground.

“Fool!” Her voice was thick with murder. “You dare speak to me like that? I should kill you where you stand!”

“And then what?” he countered, struggling to get up, even though there was no escape from Lancer’s heel. Wordlessly, a hiss of pain escaped his lips. “Run wild all over the City, killing anyone who doesn’t do what some renfaire freak tells them to?” The mark on the back of his left hand was burning again, brighter and stronger than ever before, yet he felt no pain -- only the cold, clear certainty that he couldn’t back down now. “You know what? I don’t care. Try it. I’m sick of people like you pushing me around! I’d rather die than let you have your way!”

He could force her to step down. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew this was true. All he had to do was focus and reach out to the fire and light coming from the mark. Just focus…

...But before he could do so, Lancer laughed.

“...Hah. So the spark of heroism hasn’t quite faded from common men yet, after all.” She took her heel off his head, and before he could recover, seized his arm and helped him get back up on his feet. “I may have misjudged you, boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” he insisted, the anger not wholly out of his system just yet. “My name’s David.”

“David...a name used by the descendants of Sem.” Her gleaming eyes settled on him, and for a moment, David had the distinct feeling she was seeing right through him, to his core. “...Such fine circuits, too. Perhaps this accidental summoning makes more sense than I thought. I wonder how far back into history your bloodline must reach?”

“...No, it doesn’t. None of this makes any sense. What are you talking about?”

Lancer nodded, knowingly. “You have many questions, and I will be the one to answer them -- but first, there is something you must do for me, a curious whim you must satisfy.”

She raised her shield again, and instinctively, David braced for impact, but no blow ever came. Instead, Lancer merely offered it to him.

“Your desire to participate in the Holy Grail War is true, David, Master of Lancer -- yet as things currently stand, you cannot do so. Not because your spirit is weak, but because there is little you can offer to our struggle. If you throw yourself into this conflict as you are now, you will die. But we can change that. Peer into the depths of my shield, beyond the superficial reflection, and tell me what you see.”

“And if I do it, you promise you’ll explain what’s going on?”

“Yes,” Lancer said, nodding. “You have my word.”

It seemed like a pointless request, but David’s curiosity got the better of him. Setting aside his lingering resentment, he leaned forward and focused on the polished white surface of Lancer’s bronze shield.


His reflection stared back at him, mirroring the look of concentration on his face. And yet, something about it was odd -- it was strangely askew from him, similar, yet not quite the same. And now that he was looking at it more closely, his reflection’s eyes didn’t match his, either. They were… clearer, somehow. Like they too, shone with inner light like Lancer’s did. Was it just his imagination? Or were they truly not one and the same?


He couldn’t keep his attention off them. The light grew, consuming all his vision, until nothing existed besides the eyes. They enveloped him, the pupils drawing him in with the force of a black hole’s gravitational pull. He fell into the swirling vortex, unable to stop himself, disappearing beyond the black and the façade that held it…

...And there, for an instant, he saw Truth.

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

Lancer’s shield reflects onlookers’ stares back at them like a mirror, and the mirror never lies. Within the reflection, the most inexperienced Master of the Holy Grail War sees beyond superficial appearances, to the essential nature of things -- the essential nature of his own self. But what does he see?

A) What is your Origin? (Please specify)

A/N: There are no prompts to pick from here. This choice is a forced write-in, as I will not define a player character’s fundamental purpose for them. To those unfamiliar with the concept, an Origin is the true core of every being in the Nasuverse -- their ‘true purpose’, so to speak, a concept they came from and towards which they are driven. Whether it is Taboo, Consumption or Void, no one can escape the pull of their Origin -- and awakening to it can lead to attaining great power or profound insights through unification of purpose. Every Origin can be summed up with at most a few words, and most are simple enough that a single word suffices. Choose wisely.

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Seventeen-B: Reflection (Part II)


A city without end, in a world washed out of color, where everything was just a shade of grey. A darkened sky, brimming with menacing thunderclouds. A man, walking down the sidewalks, admiring flowers that would never wilt or fade away.

It was him, and his city was the City, but neither were quite themselves. He walked with purposeful stride, and she was empty, a secret sanctum just for him. Nothing else could live there. The wind would never blow through it, and the rains would never paint its rooftops. The flowers would never reach full bloom. It was a single moment, caught, treasured… forever.

That was what David told Lancer, after returning from the shield’s depths, his body shaking as he recalled the hauntingly familiar vision.

“And that was everything?” Lancer asked, after a moment. “Nothing else?”


“No. I saw everything I needed to see. I’m positive of it,” he said, through chattering teeth. He’d never been so confident about anything else in his entire life.

Lancer nodded slowly. “...I see.”

There was a long pause. Eventually, she spoke again.

“Listen now, David, descendant of Sem. I will explain the nature of this world to you, and what has transpired tonight, and the danger you are in, but it will take some time. Take us to your house. By the time we get there, you will know all there is to know about magic and the Holy Grail War.”

---

The door to the apartment opened and David stumbled in, barely aware of the soft click as it closed behind them. So it was real. This wasn’t a dream. And if it was a delusional madwoman’s ramblings, then congratulations to Lancer were in order. In the hour it had taken them to cover the distance between his home and the museum, she’d spun such an ironclad, compelling tale about the secret nature of the world he couldn’t bring himself to believe in the normalcy and simplicity of the world he’d previously been living in even a moment longer.

“To know the world is to be unsettled by it,” Lancer said behind him. He turned around and there she was, a relic of the past standing in the middle of his tidy bachelor’s pad, as out of place as an upright tree growing in the desert’s dry soil. “Peace of mind will come to you as you reconcile your vision of reality with its truth, eventually, but not for quite some time.”

She glanced at the rows of bookshelves lining the walls, taking stock of the titles -- for the most part, fictions.

“Tell me something, descendant of Sem.”

“I’m not a descendant of Sem. My family’s name is Norbert.”

“Fine. Answer me this, David, descendant of Norbert: are you satisfied with the life you’ve led?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. No. It was dreadful. The last week, the last month, the last year, the last decade had been something not worth remembering. But how could he admit to another that he felt his entire existence had been nothing more than a collection of wasted years?

He didn’t have to say anything. Lancer nodded, once again.

“You were born under a bad sign. In the wrong time, to the wrong family.” She picked one of the books at random from the nearest shelf -- an old edition of Robinson Crusoe. “I see many famous tales, their spines worn from frequent use,” she said, as she perused its contents, turning the pages with incredible speed… and yet, from the way her eyes darted back and forth, she was reading it as she went, he was certain of this. “The mind does not wander when it is satisfied and busy. All your life, you have been waiting for a call to a heroism -- a moment that will never come in this world that needs no hope for a better future.”

She snapped the book shut.

“I will make you strong. I will make you great. The time of heroes is past, but on my oath, I will shape you into a man who will leave his mark upon the world.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. A part of him wanted to scoff -- it seemed too good to be true, that he could so easily change, but he shoved it away. His entire world up to this point had been a lie, or at most, an incomplete picture. Why couldn’t this be true? No, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe. But the obstacles standing in their way were so severe!

“Lancer, how are you going to do that? We’re supposed to be fighting in a war. We can’t just afford to sit around and wait until I’m ready, can we?”

“No,” she agreed. “If we wait and do nothing, our enemies will eventually find us. Sooner rather than later, we will have to fight. But we will not do so alone.”


Setting the book aside, she picked up her spear, resting against the wall. “I will remake you, David Norbert, and you will be thankful for my guidance, but it will not be an easy or simple matter. You will be broken. Your beliefs will be sundered. You will feel pain and sorrow and I will use it to bind the shattered pieces of your self together. And then, we will repeat the process, again and again, until the steel of your soul is much too strong to break. If you will not allow me to test you, then there is nothing more to be said between us. These are the terms of my servitude. Do you agree?”

“Or what? Stay a loser my whole life?” His throat hurt forcing those words out, but this was too important. “Of course I do. When do we start?”

“We already have. This was the first test. Now, let us begin the second. You have me, your teacher and Servant to guide you. If you could simply ask for it, what else would you wish for to help you win this war?”

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

Having earned a modicum of Lancer’s respect, David embarks on a perilous journey self-discovery, down a path of no return. What grace does he most yearn for, as he sets out to find victory in the Holy Grail War?

A) Allies, to fight beside me.

B) Peers, to speak with and learn from.

C) Implements, to simplify my ordeals.

D) Inspirations, to give me something to fight for and protect.

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Eighteen: Underneath the Surface


Bassomundo Military Base was a half-hour drive away from the city, and completely dark. From a distance, it was completely impossible to tell what was going on inside -- what security measures were in place, the number of guards on active duty, even the base’s layout was a complete mystery.

“Sir… is Assassin really going to be all right?”

Fang’s words startled Emilio as they broke the silence inside her car (they’d left the supply truck back home for this operation. The odds of the theft having been reported already were too high). It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and think of an answer.

“According to him, Assassins are picked because they’re masters of hiding and attacking unsuspecting enemies. If he can’t do it, no one can.”

He stared at the radio Assassin had left behind for the fiftieth time in the last few minutes, hoping it’d pick up, but nothing yet. Nothing but silence. So instead, he focused his attention on another problem he could work on.

“I still think you shouldn’t be here, rookie. Even if breaking me out was justified, there’s no way to spin stealing away weapons from the military. We should focus on cleaning up your paper trail when you home and—”

“Sir. It’s fine.” Maybe it was just the lateness of the hour, or the coldness of night, but Fang’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “I didn’t want to stick around anyway.”

“What?” He must’ve misheard or something. “You’re joking. Why would you want to leave the army? Out of all the trainees I had, you were the one who really busted her ass trying to get better. You gonna throw all that effort into the dumpster or something?”

“N-no! It’s just, I...” She struggled to find the right words. “...Sir, you didn’t hear anything about what was going on in the airforce while you were in jail, right?”

“No. What happened?”

“After the war ended, Command started massive discharges. Entire squadrons of soldiers were told to pack up and go home. Even trained pilots.”

“What were you expecting? A standing army doesn’t need to be that big during times of peace. There’s no point in keeping warriors around if you don’t have any battles to fight.”

“Then why did arms production kick into overdrive?”

“What?”

“Th-that’s why I suggested this base, Sir. When Command conducted a personnel overhaul, I was shuffled to administrative duties to help out with a bottleneck. I saw lots of requisition and transport reports while working with the logistics department. So many...” She shivered for a moment, then continued. “A-anyway, one thing the reports were consistent about was that advanced arms production was being conducted here. They didn’t say what they were making, but it’s bound to be something powerful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Emilio agreed, nodding. “It doesn’t make any sense though. Why bother putting work into advanced prototypes after the war ended? They might as well be glorified paperweights for all the good they’ll do now. Unless…”

“...Unless someone’s planning another war?” Fang ventured.

“But then, why cut down the army’s size?”

Neither of them had an answer to that. Before they could come up with an answer, a burst of static from the radio made both of them jump.

“This is Assassin. Killer, Fang, do you copy?”

The radio was in Emilio’s hand in the blink of an eye. “Yeah. You inside yet?”

“Inside? I’ve been exploring this place for the last twenty minutes. It’s crawling with guards and the armory’s bursting at the seams with weapons. Get inside. There’s something you need to see.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Stealth isn’t exactly a jet pilot’s specialty.”

“There’s a gap in the electric fence you can sneak in through. Call me when you’re on the other side.”

“A what?! You don’t really expect me to—”

The connection cut off. Emilio swore. “Dammit!”

“...Sir, are you really going to sneak inside?” Fang asked, her eyes wide. “That seems...”

“Stupid, I know. But Assassin wouldn’t ask unless he was sure it was important.” Seizing the radio, he turned to go. “Keep the engine warm. We’ll be out before you know it.”

“Alright. Please be careful.“

---

The military base was maybe half a kilometer away, surrounded by nothing but dirt and grass. There was really nowhere to hide, but just as Assassin had said, the chain link fence had a small hole in it, barely big enough for a man to squeeze through. Every muscle in Emilio’s body tightened as he slipped underneath the deadly electrical fence, not even daring to breathe in case the influx of air into his chest pushed his back just high up enough to establish a circuit between the fence and the ground, using his body as a channel for a million volt discharge. Once he was inside, he hid behind the nearest building and drew out the radio, sweating bullets all the while.

“This is Killer. I’m inside. What next?”

“Made it in already, huh? Good to know. The guard patrols have blind spots. Listen to me carefully and do things exactly as I say and you’ll get through. Can you see them?”

The base was pitch black, with not a single light indicating it was actually occupied. After some time, however, Emilio began to see shapes, patrolling in the dark.

“Yeah. They using night vision?”

“Exactly. You see the four circling around the hangar?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait until the one closest to you stands in the corner for a moment.”

Exactly as Assassin had predicted, the guard stopped his patrol momentarily. “What now?”

“Count of five, run towards the service entrance of the building to your left. One, two, three, four, five. Go!”

He didn’t stop to argue, not at this time. He was blind, unarmed and helpless. Assassin’s instructions were his only advantage. If he couldn’t trust his partner, why had he even bothered to come?

“I’m inside. Where to?”

“Take the ladder to your right down to the second basement. Count to fifteen before you come down from the tube separating each floor. Soon as you hit the ground, keep going forward until you reach the third junction and take a right, then straight ahead to the fortified door at the end. I’ll open it for you.”

The base interior was a far cry from the austerity of the exterior. Everything was bright, polished and clearly illuminated… there was barely anywhere to hide. Emilio couldn’t shake off his surprise at how easy it all seemed with Assassin’s instructions.

“You watching me through the cameras or something?” he asked, as he entered the storage room beyond the steel door.

“No. Just making guesses,” said a voice behind him. Suddenly, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. “This place is a safe spot. Take a breather and get ready. You’re headed into a camera maze next.”

How could anyone be so skilled at infiltration that they didn’t even need surveillance to guide someone else past the eyes of trained watchmen? Even the electronic surveillance proved no match for Assassin’s insights. All Emilio had to do was follow his trail as he led him deeper and deeper inside the complex, past an aseptic laboratory and computer farm and into what could only be the hangar’s subfloor. But…

...There weren’t any planes in storage here.

BGM: Culmination of Research

A single, strange craft dominated the room. It dimly resembled an airplane… if airplanes could stand on their own two feet, had a pair of arms, and were perhaps two thirds their usual height, no taller than a large truck. Yes… it resembled an airplane, indeed, but at the same time, it also made Emilio think of something else: battle armor.

“What the…?”

“I did some snooping around in those labs you saw earlier.” Assassin said, his face grim. He walked towards a nearby stack of crates and opened a small laptop sitting there. “Found some strange reports. Take a look.”

The screen blinked to life, revealing a nondescript email account. Five emails were marked with a star. Hesitantly, Emilio opened the oldest one and began to read.

From: Lieutenant Reinholz Hutzon
To: Dr. Jaleen Mukai
Date: 2/27/2013

More bad news. Command has authorized research into so-called ‘mystic code’ equipment, and wants us to waste our time on it. We meet with the so-called ‘magus’ that contacted them tomorrow. Bring your notes on Project Keter with you. With any luck, we may be able to get a greenlight on it once this farce is over.

From: Major Reinholz Hutzon
To: Dr. Jaleen Mukai
Date: 7/11/2014

I’ve read your report on the fundamental properties of Mystic Codes. If we can’t analyze these items without weakening the magic that empowers them, then we’ll stick to mass production of the most valuable tools and use the less useful ones as guinea pigs to see if we can find a loophole. I’m greenlighting Project Assiah’s Advanced Extreme Tactical in limited quantities. I think we can make use of them as prerequisites for the development of more advanced weapons and armor.

From: Dr. Jaleen Mukai
To: Colonel Reinholz Hutzon
Date: 4/5/2018

Colonel Hutzon,

Research into Mystic Code integration is proceeding apace. While we still haven’t found any ways around the requirement for ‘mana’ to activate their features, efficient usage of ambient energy allows for prolonged periods of operation. If we could isolate the ‘magic gene’ and cultivate it, or better yet, induce it in our soldiers, the Concordian military could become the most powerful fighting force on Earth overnight. Better still, I think recent breakthroughs in MC research may allow us to resurrect that old project of ours we had to bin due to the excessive strain it put on pilots. I’ll send you the schematics for Project Keter Mk. II tomorrow. Tentative codename: Merkabah.

From: Brigadier General Reinholz Hutzon
To: Dr. Jaleen Mukai
Date: 7/11/2019

Jaleen,

I’ve done it. With the war’s end close at hand and new, first-hand experience in defeating an inferior enemy in air-to-air combat, the Chiefs of Staff have finally agreed to pursue an aggressive development policy to take our army to the next level. Concordian air superiority must be maintained, and the reborn Project Keter will be the method by which we will achieve true dominance. We meet with representatives of the Labelle family tomorrow. Get ready to work around the clock to make sure it’s ready before the incursion to Erusea enters its planning stages, Jaleen. Merkabah will change the face of warfare. Through it, our dreams of the ultimate air-to-surface vehicle will finally be realized!

From: Brigadier General Reinholz Hutzon
To: Dr. Jaleen Mukai
Date: 2212/2019

Jaleen,

First off, my sincerest thanks for your efforts. I still can’t believe our dream machine is finally operational. If I have a say, you’ll get full credit for this. No one else could’ve made Merkabah into a reality, much less as quickly as you did. We can’t keep patting our backs forever, though. On to business. A scion of the Labelle family is scheduled to arrive soon, to participate in some kind of magical ritual or other. I believe it’s called the ‘Holy Grail War’. Its overseer has already contacted us, and offered reassurances as to his ability to keep the peace. We’re not supposed to intervene, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get something out of it. As soon as the girl’s arrival is confirmed, we’ll dispatch a squad to bring her here. Someone like her should definitely be able to test-drive the Merkabah #2’s systems, even if she lacks the experience to fly it. The test data will prove invaluable to our efforts. You have my absolute confidence on this matter. Do whatever you deem necessary to test Merkabah to the full extent of its capabilities.

“...You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

That was all Emilio could say as he finished reading. He took a step back, as if struck by a heavy blow. Command had known about magic? For years, even? And they were working on some kind of hybrid techno-magical project? It was all too crazy to be true, and yet, there it was, right in front of him. There was no mistaking what the strange hybrid before him was. And worse...another participant in the Holy Grail War knew of it, too.


“Is this…?”

Assassin nodded. “Merkabah Prototype #2, yes. The result of years of top-secret weapons development. I didn’t have much time to look over the details, but it’s fully armed and ready, and capable of performing duties both as a miniature fighter jet and an unmatched surface combat unit. Much faster than a tank, more evasive than any aircraft, and magnitudes more powerful than any simple landbound soldier… saying it’ll change the face of warfare is putting it lightly. If it actually works, anyone who can pilot this thing could lay waste to entire armored divisions without even trying.”

“No wonder you took your sweet time before calling...” Emilio muttered, still reeling. All of this had been going on right under his nose...how had he never noticed what R&D was really up to? “...So what are we supposed to do with this thing?”

Assassin crossed his arms. “This isn’t my country, Killer. I didn’t fight the war they talked about, and I don’t know what your old bosses are like either. They’re planning to start another conflict though, hot on the heels of the first. You think your people can take that? Even with the aid of magic tech?”

Emilio lowered his gaze. “...I don’t know.”

Out in the sky, he’d felt invincible, at peace even when bullets whizzed past his cockpit. But not everyone had had it that easy. Several other pilots had broken down, forced to retire early from the frontlines due to extreme levels of stress. And towards the end, they’d been forced to sortie almost daily. Maybe this was called for… and yet, something about this rubbed him the wrong way. It almost seemed to go against the principles of air combat. What was the point of mastering every kind of complex maneuver, if one side had magic to bridge the skill gap?

“We could just leave. We have what we came here for anyway. Don’t we?”

Assassin simply nodded and pointed at a large, heavy bag near the corner.

“Assassin, tell me something. Is magic as much of an advantage as it looks?”

“Bigger than you can imagine. Standard spells can allow a rookie magus to punch through metal and react fast enough to dodge bullets. Technology mixed with magic… I don’t even want to think about how far it can go.”

“And another magus is coming to test it. Can we destroy it?” he asked.

“Even magical technology isn’t immune to some strategically placed explosives. One word is all it takes.”

For a moment, Emilio studied the machine before him. It had a kind of sleek beauty -- small, thin, almost fragile, yet with such a purposeful design even someone who didn’t know the first thing about engineering like him could tell it was a masterwork. Denying their enemies this massive advantage would require destroying a true marvel of human ingenuity. But maybe…

...Maybe…

BGM: Decision For The Ages

Time of Decision: Choose your fate!

Deep in the bowels of the military base, Emilio and Assassin stumble upon a cutting-edge warmachine that could change the course of history. What are they supposed to do about it?

A Destroy it. It’s too dangerous to leave unchecked. We can’t let our opponents get their hands on it.

B) Leave. Blowing this thing up could complicate our exit. Better to just play it safe and regroup outside.

C) ...This thing can turn itself into a flier, can’t it? I’m not a magus. I probably can’t operate it, but still… but still…!

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Ninteen: The Robin Flies Away


“...We’re taking it with us.” Emilio’s words pierced the silence of the underground hangar like a lightning bolt.

“What?”

In response to Assassin’s shock, Emilio gave him a grim nod. “The military is going to be on high alert after we take care of it no matter what we do, and we can’t just leave this alone and walk away. We ain’t got any good choices here. If there’s no way to both deny our enemies and advantage and keep a low profile, we might as well make sure we take it for ourselves. And besides...”

Raising his hands up, he cracked his knuckles. As he did so, a confident smirk dawned on his face.

“...I’ve never met a plane I couldn’t fly. Just because this one’s magic doesn’t mean I’m gonna let it be an exception.”

Assassin shook his head. “You’re nuts, you know that? Even if we manage to get this thing out of here, removing its tracking functions will be a pain in the ass. We’ll have to work all night just to make sure you can actually operate it.”

Taking off his tinted glasses, Emilio shot him a piercing glance. “You’re chickening out then?”

“And lose a chance at getting your wings back?” Assassin’s face split into a wide grin. “They’re keeping some of those special flight suits from the report in that locker over there. You better suit up if you don’t want this prototype to knock you out cold when it takes off.”


The Assiah Extreme Tactical Suit didn’t look so much like a flight suit as it did some sort of nightmare cross between a skintight catsuit and kinds of clothes entertainment studios used for motion capture. Initially bulky and inflated, it shrank to fit Emilio’s frame snugly the instant he was finished suiting up. Taken aback, he raised his arms and took a few steps to test how restrictive it truly was, and realized to his surprise that it was almost as if it wasn’t there.

“Feels like I’m wearing nothing at all…” he murmured, stopping to adjust the collar around his neck.



This is supposed to be a… what’s it called… a Mystic Code, isn’t it? Don’t you need magic to activate those?”

“The suit’s supposed to enable the rest of its functions automatically when the user tries to activate the Merkabah #2. Don’t worry about it. As long as you can fly that thing, it’ll take care of the rest. Ready to give it a shot? It looks like it can walk without a magical energy injection. Let’s take it up to the ground floor and get ready.”

Grunting in agreement, Emilio approached the crimson flight unit and climbed in, shoving aside a tangle of loose wires. Activating it was easy -- there were several clearly labeled switches similar to those present on a fighter jet around the armoured chest area that needed to be activated in order to engage its engine. The hard part was moving around, once the engine was up and running. The flight unit responded to his movements, but slowly and clunkily, requiring him to overact each motion to get it moving at something resembling a decent pace. But soon enough, him and Assassin were on the elevator.

As it quietly brought them closer and closer to the surface, Emilio spoke up.

“Hey, Assassin.”

“Yeah?”

“Once I’m out of here, get Fang and stay low. This thing’s got a radio I can use to set up a rendezvous point once I’m sure no one’s on my tail. I’ll call as soon as the coast is clear.”

“Got it. I’ll make a distraction and buy you time to get off the ground. Wait ‘til the bullets start flying and count to 10.”

“There’s a lot of soldiers out there. You sure you can take that much heat?”

“I could’ve done it back when I was alive, and becoming a Servant’s been pretty good to me. They won’t even scratch me.” It was barely a brag, the way he said it. More of a statement of fact. “Just try not to get yourself killed when the military sends out its response to you stealing a top-secret prototype like this.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“...Assassin.”

“Shoot.”

“You could’ve argued when I said I wanted to do this. Fought harder.”

“And you’re wondering why I didn’t?”

“Yeah.”

Assassin shot him a sideways glance. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Killer. I don’t like taking pointless fights, or big risks. An assassin doesn’t make it this far by being careless.” His gruff, gravelly voice softened. “But sometimes, you have to do something stupid and reckless to be able to live with yourself after it’s all over.”

Then, Assassin did something unexpected -- he chuckled.

“Besides, piloting’s your game, isn’t it? Unless everything you told me is a pile of B. S., it’s not gonna be that difficult.”

They were about to intentionally alert an entire military base’s garrison and steal away with a machine neither of them had ever seen before, much less piloted. And yet, somehow, those words filled Emilio with confidence. With someone like Assassin covering his back, how could he fail?

“Yeah. When this sortie’s over and done with, the first round of beer’s on me.”

The elevator arrived at the hangar’s ground floor. From the darkness that surrounded them, a dozen planes peered out.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Assassin said, pulling an assault rifle out of the backpack he’d brought with him. “Wait until you hear the bullets and count to ten. The way out’ll be clear by then.”

Without another word, he snuck out. The next few minutes were eternal -- but all of a sudden, an explosion shook the earth. Cries of alarm filled the air, and through the Merkabah #2’s glass pane, Emilio saw featureless figures, scrambling in the dark. It didn’t take much longer for the first few shots to ring out.

10.

This was it. Drawing a deep breath, Emilio closed his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. Finally. Finally, he’d have a chance to fly once again.

9.

There was a road leading to the base’s runway, but he didn’t have time to make it there without attracting gunfire. He’d have to come out of the hangar itself already aloft. There was a warehouse in front of it, no more than ten yards away, ready to stop him if he couldn’t gain air quickly enough. It was going to be dicey.

8.

Where was he supposed to go from here? A place far away from any military forces, where no civilians would get caught in the crossfire when the boots came knocking. Somewhere the City’s hustle and bustle couldn’t reach.

7.

Brilliant Park, maybe? Yes. That sounded about right. Large, open, uninhabited -- the perfect place for a rendezvous, assuming everything went according to plan.

6.

Shouting could be heard, along with more explosions. Assassin had promised a distraction. So far, he’d delivered.

5.

Would he be able to live up to his boast, however? The staccato bursts of gunfire that had shattered the night’s silence had grown, becoming a full-blown barrage. Even a Servant must have felt pushed by such a relentless assault.

4.

It was too late to have seconds thought now, though. Assassin would live. He had to. All Emilio could do was hold up his end of the bargain and make it out of the base alive.

3.

It was funny, now that he thought about it. Back during the conflict with Emmeria, he’d flown a customized F-15, painted a brilliant scarlet. His superiors had thought it a pointless disadvantage, singling him out and exposing him to return fire, but It had earned him a nickname among the enemy forces -- ‘Red Rider’. War, the second Horseman of the Apocalypse, in other words. What were the odds the prototype they’d found would cater to his needs like that?

2.

There was no more time left. Even though he’d broken out hours ago, he still felt trapped inside that jail cell. He’d always be trapped until he made it back to the air.

The sharp turn ahead of him was the last obstacle ahead of him. Even if he died right after, it’d all have been worthwhile if he got to return to the sky for at least a little while. He could see it already, even through the roof of the hangar. Covered in stars, blue as midnight…

“Clear skies.”

1.

BGM:The Robin Flies Away

Inside Emilio, a fire began to burn, as it did before every flight. It’s warmth covered him from top to bottom, filling his veins with light. For a moment, he understood everything. There was him, there was Merkabah, and there was the sky above him. Nothing else mattered.

In that instant, the world fell away.

Acting on instinct, he reached inside the flight unit’s left and right arms. Seizing the circular controls that governed them, he pulled them back, as if to tear them of, until he heard something click into place. The wires he’d carelessly shoved aside earlier rose up, seemingly of their own volition, and slipped into place over the holes in his flight suit, driving hidden needles underneath his skin. The fire inside him spread out across Merkabah, and for a moment, Emilio felt his senses distort, as his body and the flight unit’s structure melded together, becoming one and the same. Its engine, previously humming along faintly, revved up with a beastly thrum. In front of his eyes, words, numbers and figures appeared on the glass.

Merkabah Prototype #2, “Robin”, Ver. 0.9.8
Status check complete
All systems nominal

That was the signal he’d been waiting for. Lifting his foot, he brought it down with a heavy stomp, right onto a pressure-sensitive plate -- and in response, the engine roared to life, sending him hurtling forward, accelerating impossibly fast to reach the speed of sound.

There was no time to react or adjust to the sheer acceleration, completely beyond that of any normal airplane. Any normal pilot would have crashed. But just as the Robin began its movement, Emilio pulled the controls and leaned back with his whole body - and in response, the Robin rose, gracefully slipping over the warehouse’s walls, past its second story windows, all the way up, up, up towards the starry sky.

I did it.

The thought surfaced in Emilio’s mind like a dolphin cresting the ocean waves, rising high until he felt like yelling in triumph.

I DID IT!

Leaving a trail of red that was more than just superheated air behind, the Robin shot past the base’s walls, the loud roar of its engine bringing the hostilities to a temporary halt. It was all the guards could do to stare as a strange vehicle they’d never seen before disappeared into the night. By the time they realized what it truly meant, Assassin had disappeared. There were no more enemies left to fight.

“Killer, this is Assassin! Come in, now!”

The pressure on his chest from moving at such insane speeds without any shielding was agonizing. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t even breathe. Any second now, his thorax would cave in. But just as that thought crossed his mind, a bolt of lancing pain coursed through his body and the Assiah suit’s bulky collar rose up, covering his nose and mouth to form an oxygen mask -- and suddenly, somehow, the pressure lifted. He could breathe again.

“Killer here,” he managed, between labored breaths. “What is it, Assassin?”

“There’s drone planes scrambling on the runway! They must be part of the plane’s security system!”

In response to a thought, a radar appeared on the corner of the windscreen. Sure enough, three red dots could be seen behind him, fast approaching.

“That’s it? Seriously?” He wouldn’t have called a three on one an unfair fight during the war. The term he used for skirmishes like that was target practice. A strained laugh escaped Emilio’s lips as they contorted into a wild grin. “Bring it.”

He slammed the flight controls into their sockets, as deep as they could go. In response, the Robin began bucking in mid-air, like a wild bronco. His stomach tightened out of reflex, but even so, Emilio held fast and let the flight unit twist and turn him around as it liked. Soon, his body was completely horizontal -- and the Merkabah #2 was no longer a flight unit, but a plane, with sharp, elongated wings.

Tentatively, Emilio shifted his weight up and down, and in response, the Robin mimicked his moments, albeit slower and less fluidly than before. It was a plane, after all, and lacked the flexibility of a humanoid frame… yet what it lacked in mobility, it made up for in sheer speed. It had taken the car half an hour to reach the military base, but it only took ninety seconds for the Robin to reach the skies above the City. He whistled, impressed.

“Not bad. And this isn’t even full power either. Not bad at all…”

Even moving at speeds that easily exceeded Mach 1, the drones could just barely gain ground on him now. But of course, just because they couldn’t reach him didn’t mean they couldn’t stop him.

Warning! Missile fire inbound.

Of course. No other way for aircraft to interact with each other. Bullets whizzed past the Robin, as the ominous beeping indicating approaching explosives grew more and more urgent. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up to him. By his estimation, he couldn’t have more than five seconds.

Plenty of time take care of these cheap toys, then. And there was a junkyard up ahead that looked like a perfect spot to rain some scrap down on… he’d have to time this perfectly, though. 1… 2... 3!

Exactly three seconds later, Emilio began executing an upward loop. Before it was even a quarter complete, he pulled the controls back, transforming the Robin back into flight unit mode once again...and then dug only his heel into the accelerator plate, causing it to boost backward using side exhaust jets. The missiles soared past underneath him harmlessly, and the drones followed suit. Though they tried to chase after him, they lacked the Robin’s precise control, and that made them sitting ducks. Grinning like a madman, Emilio raised his arms and pressed a button at the top of the controls.

“Gotcha.”

Without the aid of a targeting computer, most pilots would’ve been hard-pressed to hit the broadside of a barn, much less a target moving at the vertigo-inducing speeds of aerial combat. But the man they knew as the Red Rider wasn’t like most pilots. With the press of the buttons, the Robin’s hands changed to twin autocannons and rained lead upon the drone planes, quickly and efficiently tearing them apart. The third was luckier, and managed to escape the worst of it, by taking a different path… but all it could do was set itself on a collision course towards the Robin, futilely trying to hurt it as it swerved back and forth with the agility of a hummingbird.

Emilio could’ve easily shot it down as it had its brethren, but he wasn’t done stretching his legs yet. Instead, he transformed the Robin back into plane form, and raced to meet the drone. A storm of gunfire greeted him, yet there, in his element, Emilio achieved the dream of all dancers: to weave back and forth with such grace and precision, even the raindrops in a storm could never touch him at all. The instant before the planes collided, he committed to a hard dive and pressed a button on the back of the controls. In response, a tiny electrically charged metal sphere was launched from the left wing -- and as soon as it was close enough to the drone plane, it detonated, unleashing a hellish localized storm that fried its circuitry, causing it to tumble down to the ground to meet its end.

“Whew,” Emilio said, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad for a workout.”



As the adrenaline slowly wore off, Emilio shook his head and opened the comm lines.

“Killer here. Assassin, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear. You got rid of the drones already?”

“Yeah. Piece of cake. Everything good on your end?”

“Everything good,” he confirmed. “You made a hell of a ruckus back there. They never even noticed we were there. You got some place in mind for a meetup?”

“Yeah, Brilliant Park.” As he spoke, Emilio turned around and set the course for it. “The rookie knows how to get there. Kid, you doing alright? It’s been a hell of a long night.”

According to the HUD’s clock, it was close to 5 AM already. It couldn’t be more than a few hours left before dawn arrived.

“Hnn? I’m OK, sir. Just need a little bit of...” Whatever it was she meant to say was drowned out by an enormous yawn that made Emilio smile.

“Easy there, Fang. We still got a ways to go before we’re done. Try to conserve energy. You wouldn’t want to—”

Emilio’s words died in his throat. Transitioning the Robin back to flight unit mode abruptly, he hovered in place, looking down at the scene before him.

“Killer?” Assassin’s voice came in. “Something wrong? You went quiet all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine. But this place… you’re not going to believe this.” Even though he was piloting a machine beyond most people’s ability to comprehend, the scene below was enough to leave him dumbfounded. “Just what the hell happened here…?”

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Twenty: In the Dark, Laid Bare


"Master, is this really the time to be so mindful of decorum? You asked me to teach you confidence. How can we make any progress, if you are not prepared to entrust yourself to my care for even this first step?"

“...It’s just too much, too soon. I’m sorry, Caster.”

Luna’s words echoed in the dim darkness of her home, opening an abyss between her and her Servant. For a moment, Caster said nothing, her moonlit green eyes utterly inscrutable. Then, she let out a long sigh and stepped aside, leaving the way to the house’s bathroom open.

“It will be as you wish then, Master. There is nothing for a retainer to do but obey the commands of their liege.” Raising a hand, she gestured towards the door. “But I must insist you do take a bath, for reasons of health if not to help address your lack of confidence. It has been a long day, and tomorrow will be longer still.”

Is that disappointment in her eyes? It probably is. She must think I’m a coward, too scared of others to do anything right.

A sinking feeling bubbled up in the pit of Luna’s stomach. She stood by her decision not to allow Caster to help her bathe, but deep inside, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d blown her chance to earn Caster’s respect.

“Alright. Deal.”

She didn’t so much enter the bathroom as she fled into it, glad to have the distance afforded by a closed door and a mission to separate her from those inquisitive eyes. The inside was pitch black, but that was alright -- it shielded her from Caster’s judging eyes, allowed her to dissolve into nothingness, to be no one for a while. She fumbled for a few instants, undressing in silence, and then stepped into the shower. When she turned it on, however…

“Aah!”

“Master? Is everything alright?” Came the voice from outside, immediately.

“Y-yeah! It’s alright! I’m just fine!”

That wasn’t really true, of course. She’d been taken aback the water’s temperature. It wasn’t just cold, it was flat-out icy, and it showed no signs of warming up anytime soon. The chill was such that Luna jumped out of the bath reflexively, soaked from top to bottom, and almost took the curtains with her. It was a miracle that she didn’t fall down afterward.

What the… this isn’t right. I should still have one more day of central heating left. The water bill’s supposed to come due right before the Christmas holidays, isn’t it? So why…?

…

…

...This isn’t the UK. They don’t celebrate Boxing Day here, do they? Which means…

A profound sense of futility settled upon her as she finally realized her fatal mistake. Concordia didn’t celebrate Boxing Day like the Commonwealth countries did. Here, the two-day holiday period that comprised Christmas began with the day before it, instead of continuing to the one after. Her attempt at finding clients who could pay the bills had been doomed from the start. Even if she did, she wouldn’t have had the time to actually settle her accounts before being forced to eat a penalty.

You can’t do anything right. Why did you even bother trying to summon her? You should just apologize and let her go. Let her find a better Master than a mess like you.

But she did want that bath, and she was cold and miserable and tired of it all. Gritting her teeth, Luna stepped back into the drizzle and let it hit her square in the face. Thus blinded, she groped in the dark, looking for the shower head with her right hand -- and once she found it, wrapped her fingers around it and focused, trying to recall distant memories of warmth. Sitting at the banks in Brilliant Park, basking in the sunlight. Lying down on the beach in Belfast, feeling the star’s caress. Heat, enveloping her like a blanket, like her fingers surrounding the showerhead, forming a ring…

...A line of fire coursed through her arm, leaving her even colder and more tired than before. At the same time, however, the water began to warm up. It wasn’t so awful now, and it warmed her bones, giving her more material to work with. Internal heat became external heat, which became hot water, which fueled her inner warmth, forming a perfect strengthening cycle. Soon the water was piping hot. A pleased sigh escaped Luna’s lips as the old, half-forgotten memories she’d used as fuel for her spellcasting became real once again. As she let go of the showerhead and began looking for the soap with eyes closed, her mind, at ease from the magical trance, continued to drift.

BGM: What’s On My Mind


Mmm. That’s better. Maybe I should do this more often. It’s been a while since I felt the heat around me like this. Ever since summer was last here, minimum.

…

...That can’t be right. There’s got to be something else I’m forgetting. Something that just didn’t come to mind.

…

…


There it was. Soap in hand, she began cleaning herself up mechanically. Hands, arms, thighs, feet...

...I can’t believe myself. Has it seriously been that long since I felt warm? I keep looking, but there’s nothing there. Life didn’t used to be so empty. So what am I missing? What’s broken in me that I need to fix?

…

…

...I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’ve always been nothing, and it’s just that Papa, Mama and Prinzessin made sure to fill the gaps. Maybe the world would be a better place if I just stayed in here and never came out. Maybe I should’ve been the one to get attacked that day, so Christina could get away…

…


…

...I just want this warmth to stick with me. To not have to make it myself. If I wasn’t so worthless, there’d be someone who could fill the gaps for me again.

…

…

…

...I’m getting tired. I better hurry up and finish before I faint and I spend the whole night taking a cold water bath.

Some time later, Luna emerged from the darkness, clad in a bathrobe, feeling deeply tired, yet refreshed. Even though the thoughts that had swarmed her in the dark had been painful, it felt as if part of a great stain inside her heart had been washed away. As she opened the door, a quiet murmur caught her attention.

Caster was by the window, kneeling down, her hands resting on her thighs. Words flowed out of her mouth, too quiet to make out their meaning, yet carrying such conviction that they couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a prayer. They rose and fell in a regular cadence, like a shifting tide of fervent wishes. Unwilling to disturb it, Luna stayed where stood and waited, though she could feel drowsiness creeping up on her with every passing minute.

Eventually, Caster’s prayer concluded, and she stood up. Her head half-turned around, and she acknowledged Luna’s presence with a nod.

“Thank you, Master. My apologies if I confused you. I was… thinking.”

“About what?” Luna asked, stifling a yawn. She wanted to sleep, but her curiosity got the best of her.

“Many things, Master. It’d take until morning to recount them all.” Caster’s eyes narrowed as she peered at her intently. Then, though she could not see it well, Luna knew she was smiling. “That said, perhaps there’s a few we can discuss before you retire to bed. Would you like to hear about them?”

“Mhm.”

“Then come, seat with me,” she said, gesturing towards a nearby chair, illuminated by the moonlight. Slowly, Luna shuffled her way onto it, and once she was seated down, Caster took a step and placed herself behind her.

“Now then, let us begin… ah, but forgive me, Master. Your hair is quite messy. Would you mind if I straightened it out for you?”

A while ago, Luna might have refused. But now, she was too tired, and the prospect of another fight wasn’t too enticing. So she simply nodded. “Sure.”

“Good.”

BGM: Confessional Moonlight


There was a distinctly pleased note to Caster’s voice as her hands reached forward to pluck a lock of hair off Luna’s head. With the fingers of one hand, she straightened it out, careful not to pull on it so hard as to cause pain. Then, her other hand ran up from the base of the scalp, bringing all the loose strands back to the root.

“I was thinking of home, Master. You know of my nature as a Heroic Spirit, yes?”

“Mhm.”

“Everything I knew is long gone, yet the memory of my life still lingers. This house is full of books, and so was mine. My sister was quite fond of them, always asking me to tell her new stories.” A soft chuckle escaped Caster’s lips as she began working on another lock. “You remind me very much of her.”

“Mmm. Was she so...” Her mind was sluggish, mired in confusion, and she struggled to find the right words. It’d been a long time since anyone had gotten so close to her. It was alien, and more than a little disconcerting, but not bad at all. Like hearing an oddly familiar melody she couldn’t quite place.

“So much of a handful?” Caster finished for her, humorously. “Yes. She was a terrible tomboy, for all of her interest in books, and she couldn’t keep her hair from becoming a tangled bush to save her life. Our father constantly scolded her for it, and despaired that she’d never find a decent suitor to take care of her.”

“Don’t need a suitor,” Luna mumbled, shaking her head. “‘M fine just on my own…”

“She used to say that too. We thought she was just being contrarian… but she was strong. Much stronger than anyone would have expected. She saved my life, once, when I had no one else to turn to... ah, but that’s a story for a different time.”

“Why not now?”

“Because now we are talking about my thoughts, Master. Do not worry. We will get there eventually.” For a moment, Caster contented herself with drying and straightening Luna’s hair, humming softly as she worked, but soon she spoke up again.

“Master, may I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Your mana flow has weakened considerably. Did you cast spells while in the bathroom?”

“Yeah. I forgot to pay the bills and now we have no heating in winter. So I warmed the water up with magecraft, instead.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. Not at all. Is that why your body is so lax, Master? You look quite tired.”

“Mhm. Always get worn out when I give my magic circuits a workout…” an enormous yawn escaped her throat, unopposed. “Sorry. Kind of...sleepy.”

“Hmmmm. We will have to work on your endurance, Master. The Grail War is a demanding affair. There will be no time to rest during battle.”

“Got any idea how to do that?”

“More than one. We will begin our work in the morrow. But for now…”

She was about to return to her work when a great smoke cloud eclipsed the moon, and a deep, familiar voice boomed out.

“Mistress, I have returned.”

“Revealing-Thunder. Welcome back,” Caster said, after a moment, resuming her work without pause. “Has your hunt been successful, first amongst the Marid?”

“No, Mistress. I crossed paths with a wily Archer. It shames me to admit that I was defeated, and will require time to rest within the ring before I may fight for you again,” the smoke cloud admitted, its tone full of regret. “But though I was defeated, I was not destroyed. I lingered at the scene of the battlefield, hidden from mortal eyes, to track his movements, when another Servant made his entrance.”


“Wait,” Luna said, raising her eyes, the Jinni’s words piercing through the haze of fatigue. “You mean you saw what happened when two Servants met each other.”

“Yes, o Mistress of my Mistress. Not a single thing escaped my sight. Would you like me to tell you the story of the first encounter between Servants of this Holy Grail War?”

Hesitantly, Luna looked up to Caster. Their eyes met, and after a moment, they both nodded and turned their attention back to Revealing-Thunder. Their words flowed out as one.

“Tell me everything that happened.”

“Your wish is my command.”

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Twenty-One: The Story of a Girl


“U-Um… Mister Archer, if I tell you why I’m here, will you promise not to get mad?”

It was a strange question to ask someone who had insisted on hearing her reasons for entering the Holy Grail War and who had answered her summons in the first place. And yet, it made perfect sense to Lilly. Everyone else had washed their hands of her when they’d learned the truth. Could Archer really be any different?

“That’s kind of a big question to ask, isn’t it?” he said, tilting his head thoughtfully, his blond locks swaying with his motions. His piercing eyes studied Lilly intently, clearly deeply in thought. After a moment, however, he smiled. “If you need my word, sure. I’ll just listen and learn. Shoot.”

A sigh of relief escaped Lilly’s lips. “OK! Umm… well...”

She wondered for a moment where to begin. The starting point seemed obvious, with the attack upon the Evergreen household, but every time she thought about it, her throat tightened and she couldn’t find the words. It still hurt…

“I’m not going anywhere,” Archer said, sitting down beside her. “Take as much time as you need. There’s no rush. You didn’t come here by choice exactly, did you?”

“Y-yeah… I-I just had to join after what happened.”

“What was that? Some kind of tragedy, maybe?”

“I was out getting herbs for my family. When I came back, the house was all… all… burnt down. A-and D-Doug… my big bro…”

Her hands balled up into fists. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t cry like this! Doug would’ve hated to see her so sad! Her tiny body started to shake from the effort of trying to contain the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes, but a reassuring hand on her shoulder steadied her, strong and brave.

“You came back to your house burnt down and your big brother hurt, or worse. He didn’t make it, did he?” Archer ventured.

“No… I tried to heal him, but I couldn’t… the wounds were just too great...” she said, sniffling.

Archer’s eyes narrowed. “Hm. Hold on. Wounds? You mean, not burns?”

“Yeah...”

“This fire wasn’t an accident, was it? Someone set your house on fire and then hurt your big brother. By the time you got there, though, they were long gone.”

“They thought they got everyone. They didn’t know I was away. That’s the only reason I survived.” She looked down, crestfallen. “I went to see our family’s friends, but when they heard what happened, they told me they couldn’t let me s-stay with them very long. They all turned their backs a-and left me all alone!”

She could still see the judgmental stares, the sad, distant looks of tempered pity. They never cared about us, she thought. They just wanted our family’s help with their own problems, nothing more! I don’t have anyone anymore. I...I don’t…

Stupid. So stupid. And then those stupid tears began falling down her face, the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer. Archer never said a word as she cried. Instead, he helped her to the ground and waited, watching her with keen interest and concern. It was only once they dried up that he spoke again.

“And that’s how you ended up at that park, wasn’t it? Betting everything on the promise of the Holy Grail’s wish.”

“I miss Big Bro so much,” she whispered, too quietly for any ears but Archer’s supernaturally sharp ones to hear. “I just wish he’d come back.”

As a long, uncomfortable silence descended upon them, a cool wintry breeze began to blow. It was as if the world itself was trying to fill the gap in the conversation with its own meaningless chatter, with little success. Exhausted, Lilly rested her head against her legs and covered her face. Perhaps because of that, it took her a little while to realize Archer was calling to her.

BGM: An Odd Strength


“...illy. Lilly!”

“Huh? Is something wrong, Mr. Archer?” she asked, looking up, a little drowsily.

“I was just thinking,” he said, his expression neutral as he stared at the glittering skyline all around them. “What are you going to do if you don’t win the war?”

“What do you mean?”

“The war only ends when there’s one Servant left standing, but Masters aren’t bound by the same rule. Suppose we fight and lose and I bite the dust. What are you going to do if you don’t get your wish?”

No wish? So no revenge on those horrible Barthomelois, no chance to see Big Bro again, nothing? There’s nothing left in this world for me. Is there anywhere I can go? Would anybody take me? I…

“...I don’t know,” she admitted, shaking her head. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, like she’d just conceded a game she couldn’t afford to lose.

“I’m not planning on walking away without a victory, if that’s got you worried,” Archer said, as he drew his bow and began inspecting its strings. “I’m in it ‘til the end comes. But you can’t just plan for victory, Lilly. You’ve got to know what to do even if things don’t turn out the way you want them to. ‘Cause if you don’t, that means you’re dead and you just don’t know it yet.”

“Mr. Archer, what do you mean?” Those words didn’t make any sense to her.

“The people who participate in this war are all looking for something the world can’t give them. The realization of a dream that can only be called a miracle. But their hopes and dreams aren’t special. Everybody’s got a dream that never came true, a deeply held hope that’s gone unrealized. And people don’t give up, just because their dreams don’t come true.” For a moment, he busied himself with weapon maintenance, not bothering to continue speaking.

“Heh.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “It’s kind of perverse. People know their dreams are common and meaningless. There’s more people out there with the same goals as them than anyone can count.” Slowly, he stood up and tested the string. “Realizing how insignificant you are hurts, but in a way it’s kind of freeing, isn’t it? Because you know other people are suffering the same pains you do, and they keep going anyway. They know their miracle will never happen, and it’s because they know this that they can accept a world where dreams don’t come true. And if they can keep going, so can you.”

He turned back to look at her and smiled. “You don’t have to do it now, but you should find that strength and make it your own too. Your big brother wouldn’t want you to be sad just because a tiny chance at a miracle slipped away.”

It was a lot to process. She’d never heard anyone say something like that -- to proclaim that the viciousness with which the world treated everyone was also their source of strength. She was about to say something, but then—

BGM: STOP

Out of the blue, a figure rose up into the air, many yards above the rooftop. It came down onto the center of the heliport fist-first, and when it landed, a spiderweb of cracks spread across the steel. It was a helmeted monster of a man, clad in strange battle armor...and when he raised his head to stare at them, the sheer murderous intent pouring off him in waves was enough to make her heart start racing wildly, and make her skin crawl.

“Master, get back,” Archer snarled, putting himself in front of her, bow ready. There was none of the usual warmth and levity in his voice. “This guy’s a Servant. There’s no telling what he can do, and this isn’t the best place for an all-out brawl. What are we gonna do?”

Time of Decision! Choose your fate:

In the midst of relaxation after a pitched battle, an unexpected challenger suddenly appears. At long last, two Heroic Spirits of the Holy Grail War encounter each other directly, and the stage is set for an inevitable clash. What will Lilly’s orders to Archer be?

A) Fight the strange armored man. Archer’s the strongest man in the world. There’s no way he’ll lose to someone like him!

B) Fight a running battle until you reach a suitable battleground. This space is very open but with little room to move. Archer needs a location with more range to fight him from!

C) Run away and try to lose him. He’s really scary...maybe it’s better if we pull back and pick our battles instead?

[Katla]

B

[Kanzaris]

Chapter Twenty-Two: Fatal Duel

The car engine roared to life like an awakened beast. Cursing under his breath, Lucas Graves Stepped on the gas and began racing up the spiral ramp leading to the street beyond the hotel’s underground parking lot.

“You should calm down,” his laptop - or the AI assistant housed within called Audrey, to be more specific - remarked. “Getting pissed off won’t help you catch up to Berserker any.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered darkly, as he sped out of the hotel’s bowels and into the City’s deserted streets. “What the hell was he thinking?”

“It makes sense if you think about it. We needed to intercept that Servant as fast as possible. Jumping through the window saved him at least two minutes relative to an elevator or staircase ride.”

“He should’ve told me, though. Where is he at now?”

“Analyzing Assistant’s GPS data… looks like he already made it to Marufuji building. According to Assistant, Berserker’s ready to strike. Want me to pull up visual from his helmet and the surrounding cameras?”

“Might as well.” Multiple screens began to pop up on the laptop’s monitors, rearranging themselves for ease of visibility. After making sure no one was around, Lucas switched gears and floored the accelerator.

“C’mon, Berserker,” he murmured, as he watched the battle unfurl. “Don’t let me down.”

---

“I-if this isn’t the best place to fight, then we can’t stay here, Mr. Archer!” Lilly said, standing up as fast she could. “We have to get away from this place and find a better spot. C-can we do it?” she asked, eyeing the armoured warrior before them fearfully.

“Yeah,” Archer replied. “I got a plan. When you get my signal, climb onto my back, got it?”

Lilly nodded. “O-OK…”

For a moment, the two warriors stared each other down in absolute silence. The armoured Servant extended his arm, and a strange assault rifle appeared in his hand, accompanied by a shower of sparks. Very, very slowly, he rose up, gripping the weapon with both hands and casually aiming it in their general direction. The unrelenting pressure Lilly and Archer had felt since his arrival diminished, and it was like a weight being suddenly lifted from their chests. It was impossible to tell what the mysterious warrior was thinking while he looked at them -- nary a twitch betrayed his intent. It seemed like the moment would last forever, as neither Servant was willing to make the first move. And then…

BGM: Ultimate Touch-And-Go

“NOW!”

Letting out a stentorian scream, Archer brought his foot down hard on the floor, sinking it into the helipad’s metallic surface. With a quick upward roundhouse kick, he sent a huge chunk of steel flying towards his opponent.

The monstrous warrior’s reaction was immediate, and the night’s silence was shattered by the muffled cadence of a dozen rifle shots being fired almost simultaneously. Instead of reaching their marks, however, they embedded themselves into the floor fragment, causing the metal to deform as it struggled to absorb their impact. His murderous intent returned, so thick Lilly could practically choke on it, but she didn’t waste any more time looking. Letting her fear guide her, she leapt onto Archer’s back, clinging to his torso tightly.

“‘Atta girl,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “That trick ain’t gonna hold him back for long. Let’s go!”

Without another word, Archer broke into a run, sprinting towards the edge of the roof. Noticing his escape, the enemy Servant adjusted his aim. Bullets whizzed past Lilly’s and Archer’s heads, leaving thin trails of superheated smoke in the air, but his aim wasn’t accurate enough to stop them from leaping over to the next building. Archer didn’t stop there, however - as he landed behind an electrical generator, he kept running, towards the next building. Behind them them, the gunfire continued… and almost immediately after, Lilly heard the crunch of concrete close by. When she looked back, she saw the enemy Servant was right behind them.

“It’s not gonna be that easy.” As Archer spoke, he leapt from one building to the next, zig-zagging back and forth and using what cover he could find to avoid the lethal barrage. “We’re gonna have to trick him if we want to make some distance between us. Cover your eyes!”

At the edge of the next rooftop, Archer didn’t jump -- instead, he dove downward, closing the distance separating them from the ground with dizzying speed. Three stories before landing, he kicked against the wall of the building, raised his arms up, and fired an arrow, so precisely timed it shattered one of the windows up above them just as they crashed through another.

“Rule one of the chase!” he shouted, as he dashed past room after room and then swerved into a sudden left turn. “If you can’t outspeed, outsmart!”

---

“Dammit...where are they?!” Lucas growled, slamming his fist against the steering wheel in frustration as Berserker’s video feed showed no sight of the girl and the blondie who was carrying her. “Didn’t something just break through that window?”

“It’s a trick!” Audrey replied, pulling up a CCTV replay. ”They went through another window and then changed course! They’re trying to shake him off!”

“Bastards… can you open comms with Berserker to send him the data? We can’t let them slip away from us.”

“Yeah. I’m on it!”

“Good. Berserker! Listen to me!” he called out, narrowly weaving between four cars as he drove against the flow of traffic. “It’s a feint! Audrey’s got her eye on them. Follow her instructions and don’t let them get away!”

---

Half a block of building hops later, Lilly and Archer’s relief at not being trailed quite so persistently was suddenly muted when they began hearing a series of ominous impacts, coming from behind.

“Mr. Archer, what’s that noise?” Lilly asked, as they cleared a flight of stairs ten steps at a time, Archer’s balance never faltering.

“Hell if I know. Sounds like some kind of demolition to me.” His eyes widened. “...Wait. I know—!”

Before he could say more, the wall exploded, as the enemy Servant slammed through it, elbow-first. The moment he spotted them, he raised his other arm, which was carrying the assault rifle, and opened fire.

“Shit! SHIT!” Quicker than thought, Archer dived into the space between staircase flights, bounced off the edge of the stairs, and came down onto a door two floors below, feet-first. “He’s not even bothering to go through the exits!” He said, jumping out a window and firing a rope arrow to pull them up into the air. “He’s just bulldozing his way through the walls to reach us! What kind of animal is this guy?!”

As if in response, the building’s ceiling erupted. There he was, no more than a couple yards away.

Archer didn’t even give him a chance to fire. Pulling harder on the rope, he used the extra momentum to soar over the building’s edge, down the street, and onto a curving power line.

“Eek!” Lilly cried out, taken off-guard by the sudden imbalance.

“I got it, I got it!” Archer said, leaning down, lowering his center of mass for better control as he surfed down the cabling. Behind them, the rain of bullets pulverized the façades of the buildings unfortunate enough to serve as a backdrop for their escape. “This isn’t good, though… he’s got a nose like a bloodhound. We’re gonna have to pick a turf to fight on if we want to get out of this alive, and fast.”

“But where? I don’t see anything we can use!” The wind stung like a storm of needles, but this was too important. In spite of the vertigo the sudden leaps and hops were causing her, Lilly raised her head. She couldn’t look away now!

“There’s always something. You just gotta think… there!” With no warning, Archer leapt off the power line, landing on the far end of an intersection. Pointing at a nearby multi-story car park, he sprinted toward the entrance like a man possessed.

---

“Looks like Berserker’s cornered them,” Audrey remaked, as the distance separating Lucas from his Servant began rapidly shrinking. Two and a half kilometers, two four, two three... “That car park’s pretty sturdy and it’s got no exits beyond the front door either. Unless they try to punch their way out, the only way they’ll be leaving that place is in a body bag.”

“About time,” Lucas grunted, satisfied. “Got visual on them?”

“Negative. The place is pretty old and busted. No cameras beyond the entrance. We’re stuck with Berserker’s video feed with this one.”

“Think they might be planning something? Maybe releasing their Noble Phantasm?”

“No, I don’t think so -- not enough time. Maybe they’re just desperate…”

“...Or maybe that blondie’s got a plan.” He couldn’t go any faster, so he forced himself to breathe slowly. All he could hope for was to get there before it was too late.

---

It only took a few moments for Lilly and Archer to be hidden behind one of the lot’s load-bearing columns. As he let her down gently, for the first time in what felt like ages, Lilly felt solid ground beneath her feet.

“He there yet?” Archer asked, drawing an arrow, a white cloth and a piece of flint from his cloak and quiver.

She peeked out the corner. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

“Alright. Lilly, listen carefully. You see that red sedan beside the entrance?”

“Y-yeah.”

“When you see him walk past it, shout as loudly as your lungs will let you.” Archer crouched down, letting his cloak envelop his whole body. Something scraped against the ground, and out the corner of her eye, Lilly saw sparks fly. “I can’t let him get wise to what I’m planning. You’re gonna have to be my eyes.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Archer.” Her heart was beating like a drum in her chest, kicked into overdrive by adrenaline. Even so, she kept her voice even. “I won’t let you down.”

The seconds ticked away as the two of them focused on their tasks. In a way, the wait was almost worse than the escape under gunfire they’d just gone through. At least before, they’d known what they were dealing with. Now… now there was no telling what would happen next.

There was no announcement of the warrior’s presence, as there had been beforehand. He simply appeared, striding into the car park slowly, almost lazily, with the cocksure confidence of a hunter who knew he’d cornered his prey. If she hadn’t been looking, she wouldn’t have known he was coming until it was far too late. She was certain of this much.

Each step stretched out into infinity, slowed down agonizingly to a point near stillness as Lilly waited for him to get closer, for the right moment to come. One…

Two...


Three...


Four...


Five...


...There...!


Louder than she ever had before, Lilly screamed at the top of her lungs. “FIREEEEEEE!”


The enemy Servant turned to stare at her, tracking the source of the sound perfectly. The assault rifle rose up, preparing to shoot… but Archer was faster. Like a spring that had finally been unwound, he stood up and turned one hundred and eighty degrees in a flash, bow at the ready. As he fired, Lilly caught a glimpse of his projectile: an arrow with a flaming cloth wrapped around the head. It soared through the air…

...Past the enemy Servant…

...And pierced right through the sedan’s steel frame, reaching its target -- a gas tank, loaded with fluid.


A moment later, an enormous explosion erupted, transforming the entrance to the car park into a raging inferno.

The ground shook. Unable to maintain her balance, Lilly fell down, slamming her jaw against the asphalt as a ringing sound filled her airs. All around her, the darkened car park was suddenly illuminated by the orange tinge of the burning flames.

“Ow...” she murmured, nursing her bruised jaw as she pulled herself up into a seating position. “M-Mr. Archer...did we get him?”

But Archer did not answer. His eyes were glued to the burning entryway. The fires swayed, moving back and forth, seeking the air’s precious oxygen to quench their endless hunger, each turn accompanied by faint crackling…

...And then, the enemy servant stepped through the flames, rifle at the ready -- and totally unharmed.

BGM: STOP

“Tch. Guess some damage was too much to hope for,” Archer murmured, and stepped out. “Alright, big guy. We’ll do this your way.”

He hefted his bow. The enemy servant did likewise with his rifle.

“I should warn you, though… this is my battlefield you’ve just walked into. We’ll fight head-on, just like you wanted… but we’ll do it on my terms.”

The enemy Servant did not reply. There was no need to. Here, in this moment, actions would speak louder than words.

BGM: Colliding Souls

They made their move at the same time. The hammering rhythm of gunfire was matched by the constant whistling of arrows being loosed from the bronze bow. Their movements were so impossibly fast, Lilly’s eyes could barely keep up. All she could see were shapeless masses in the darkness, briefly illuminated by the assault rifle’s muzzle flashes. What was plain and clear, however, was the devastation their clashes wrought. Crystals cracked, metal groaned, and concrete was pulverized as shots that missed their mark devastated the environment instead. The Servants’ steps were silent, but the symphony of destruction they wrought provided the perfect accompaniment to their battle.

One step taken. A matching response, immediately executed. A bullet, sidestepped by millimeters. An arrow, jumped over at the last possible second. Move and countermove. Dozens— no, hundreds of actions in the span of a single second. It would have been vertigo-inducing even if she could see it clearly.

Sparks flew as projectiles rammed into each other, their mutual momentum arrested, their killing intent neutralized. Oil slicks and gasoline leaks caught ablaze, their lights illuminating the gargantuan car park. From her hiding spot, she scanned the scene, her heart in her throat.

Please, Mr. Archer. Please don’t lose!!

She saw him as he dived behind a column and went prone. Bullets tore through it like paper, right around chest level. They would’ve been assuredly fatal to anyone who might have foolishly assumed the column could act as protection, but he was too clever for that. The column was itself a misdirection, a convenient target to keep the heat off him. Working frantically, Archer prepared another fire arrow. He fired as he dived out of cover, firing it at an opponent Lilly couldn’t see. In the distance, she heard another explosion’s rumble.

There was no time to rest. Instead of trying to match arrows to bullets, Archer began firing at the wall in the opposite direction. The projectiles began ricocheting off it, then the cars and floor, forming an inescapable trap. The gunfire stopped, as the armored warrior had no choice but to retreat. He rallied quickly, however -- an infernal din filled the air as one motorcycle after another slammed against the pillars, leaving Archer with less and less room to hide, forcing him to interrupt his own attacks to reposition.

---

A grenade flew out. The building shook with the explosion. Through Berserker’s eyes, Lucas saw the pathway to the second storey collapse in real time.

“What’s taking him so long? Berserker’s a lousier shot than I thought,” Audrey said, her annoyance at Archer’s resilience palpable.

“No,” Lucas disagreed. “He’s playing the enemy’s game on purpose.” Twelve hundred meters. Eleven hundred...the rental car groaned in protest, pushed beyond the limits of its normal use for so long. “Look at how few pillars are left. He’s wiping out his cover. They can’t match him in a straight-up brawl.”

And it was true. Though Archer’s aim was precise and his skill was great, his firing speed was simply not a match for the sublime efficiency of the assault rifle’s RoF. A noncombatant couldn’t have seen it -- but little by little, Archer was being forced back and pushed into a corner. The number of options available to him was shrinking - and this was with Berserker choosing to fight on his terms. Even while ceding the ability to dictate the terms of engagement to his opponent, he was still tirelessly working towards a gradual, perfect victory. Not for the first time, a familiar thought crossed his mind.

What kind of monster did I bring into this world…?

He had not adapted to his opponent. Indeed, his tactics had barely changed. And yet, all of Archer’s trickery had proven to be worth nothing in the face of his sheer martial skill.

A glimpse of gold appeared out the corner of Berserker’s eye. Instantly, a burst of rounds forced him back. Five arrows flew at him almost simultaneously, and the only response was an impossibly precise sidestep to weave between the first two arrows, then another to dance through the rest. And all the while, he never stopped firing. To an untrained eye, he must have seemed a terrifying force of nature -- but as a trained soldier, Lucas found his Servant’s performance even more impressive.

Ordinarily, battles against a competent foe required careful, defensive thinking -- the usage of cover and distractions was of paramount importance, as Archer’s continued survival served to demonstrate. But Berserker had no need for that. Not once so far had he done more than dodge and advance. His fighting style flew completely in the face of common sense and reason, utterly disregarding defense and self-preservation… and yet, it was working. He did not seek to protect himself because he had no need for such measures. His unrelenting offense was his defense. How many battles had he waged to so thoroughly understand the flow of combat? What enemies had he faced? Inwardly, Lucas made a mental note of asking Assistant later, once the fight was over.

It wouldn’t be long now.

---

The battle still raged, but things weren’t going well, and Lilly could sense it. There was something in the air, louder than the sounds of gunfire, clearer than the dim lights illuminating the struggle, and more toxic than the gasoline fumes. It was the stench of desperation.

The fighting had grown more localized now -- what had started as a rapid back and forth battle on the move had now become a crumbling defense. She could see Archer jumping and sliding to avoid the deadly rains aimed his way just a little longer, but bit by bit, he was losing ground. She racked her brains, trying to think of something, anything she could do.

I need to find a way to help him! There’s got to be something I can do. Anything! If not, Mr. Archer is—

“GAH!”

A bullet grazed his side. Crimson spurted from the wound, visible even in the half-light of the bonfires. His momentum arrested, Archer fell behind a van parked near the corner of the building. Lily tried to say something, but she couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to scream, her voice was dead in her throat.

---

“Yes!” As Archer was finally struck down, Lucas pumped his fist. Almost done. Now all that was left was the most dangerous part -- finishing off a cornered, wounded foe.

Berserker approached Archer’s last hiding spot slowly and implacably, weapon raised and ready to fire, as the battered building creaked ominously in the silence of the aftermath. There was no way his opponent would go gently into the night… and yet, nothing happened as he cleared the distance between them and beheld the panting Archer, clutching one last fire arrow in his hand, struggling to breathe as blood pooled beneath him from the wound.

The video feed bobbed up and down slightly as Berserker nodded. It was an acknowledgement -- though it had been his win in the end, his foe had fought valiantly. He deserved his respect.

“That... was a lot of fun… wasn’t it?” Archer mouthed out, his face twisting into a grimace as he spat those words out. “You’re… pretty… good...”

He struggled to pull himself up against the wall, leaving his bow on the ground. There was no point trying to fight anymore. “Hey… since we’re done here… mind if… I have my… last… words?”

There was another nod. Archer tried to grin, but a jolt of pain ruined his cheer. He looked up to the enemy that had defeated him, raising his arms… and then, through the video feed, Lucas saw a terrifying, triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Checkmate.”

He stabbed the van’s fuel tank. The world was engulfed in orange and black.

---

The van went up in flames, taking Archer and their enemy with it. Finally, the words that had become stuck in Lilly’s throat began to flow.

“NO!”

Pushed beyond its limits, the building’s structural integrity was finally compromised. Chunks of ceiling began to fall down, first small bits, then larger ones, carrying cars with them. Stunned, she didn’t even think to stand up as the world began crumbling all around her.

Mr. Archer… he’s… he’s…

“Move! MOVE!”

The words snapped her out of her reverie as a pair of powerful hands grabbed her and raised her up. Before she could react, the world around her blurred -- and by the time she recovered, the cool night wind was caressing her face, as behind her, the car park collapsed upon itself.

BGM: STOP

“Whew, that was close,” Archer said, wiping the soot off his brow and giving her a tight squeeze. “See? It’s like I told you. If you can’t outspeed, outsmart.”

“Mr. Archer! You’re alive!” Lilly said, as she rushed to return the hug.

“Yeah. The wound wasn’t as bad as it looked. I needed to fake being out of it to bait him into coming closer though.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he put her back down. “Just because we Servants can’t be hurt by conventional weapons doesn’t mean it’s fun to get buried underneath ten thousand tons of concrete and steel like that. Way he fought, that guy’s got to be a Berserker. It’ll be a while until his master shows up to get him out from underneath the rubble.”

He flashed her a wide grin. “All thanks to you, by the way. Once he saw explosions couldn’t hurt him, he probably lowered his guard.”

“Mr. Archer! You know that’s not true! He only got trapped because you tricked him!”

“Meh, maybe.” He shrugged. “Credit where credit’s due, though. What do you say we call it a team effort, then?”

A smile escaped Lilly’s lips. “OK!”

“There we go then. Mind if we take a little breather? After all that fighting, I really am feeling kind of—”

CRUNCH

The sudden sound of concrete being crushed killed their good mood as surely a sniper rifle bullet to the head. Exchanging concerned looks, Lilly and Archer turned around towards the source of the noise -- the demolished car park. They were just in time to see an armored fist punch through a particularly large chunk of concrete, splitting it into a thousand tiny pieces. A familiar face (or rather, helmet) soon followed it, slipping through the hole created by his fist and emerging out into the street, his other hand still clutching his gun. As his exit route collapsed behind him, Berserker stared at them, the full force of his hate bearing down upon them.

Archer’s eyes went wide. “What the… impossible! No one has the strength to lift such a weight without a Noble Phantasm. What are you?!”

It was an instinctive reaction. He drew his bow and loose a pair of arrows towards his opponent. At such close distance, it was impossible for them to miss.

Tink

The moment before they struck Berserker, a greenish field enveloped his body. Drained of all their energy, the arrows fell to the ground without a sound. The armoured warrior said nothing -- he simply stared at them, and then threw his rifle away. As it joined the arrows on the ground, it clattered, discarded like so much garbage. His metallic hands balled up into fists.


Even Archer’s sagacity wasn’t enough to comprehend that absurd sequence of events.

“Wha…?”

He tried to speak, to make sense of it, to concoct a strategy that would allow him to overcome this new challenge. He didn’t get the chance to do so. The monster before him was out of patience -- and now, he was out of time.

BGM: Endless Nightmare


Faster than he could react, Berserker crossed the distance between them and slammed his fist against Archer’s chin, lifting him dozens of feet off the ground with the force of his blow. He leapt after him, ramming his fist into Archer’s solar plexus, knocking him into the wall of the building behind him with a sickening crunch -- and then, he jumped again, in complete defiance of all the laws of physics, chasing after his prey. Winding back his arm, Berserker smashed his fist against Archer’s abdomen. As he gasped for air, cracks spread across the building’s surface.

“Gghhk—”

But he had no time to breathe. As soon as his strike was complete, Berserker sized his arm with savage efficiency and threw him over his shoulder towards the ground and followed after him, feet first. When his boot slammed against Archer’s face, the air was filled with a sickening crunch.

As he continued to stomp Archer’s face, Berserker grabbed Archer’s arm and pulled upward. It dislocated with a sickening pop.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!”

Even a hero could not endure so much pain without breaking. He screamed and screamed as his own arm was used to slam him into the ground, with such savagery he soon had no more air left in his lungs to scream with. Trembling with anger, Berserker stood above him, poised to strike again.

“Stop!” Lilly cried out, with tears in his eyes. “P-P-Please! We’re not going to fight anymore!”

But he wouldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever. He looked at her -- and then seized a nearby car, and without missing a beat, swung it down upon Archer.

“Please! You’ll kill him!”

Then he did it again.

“STOP!”

And again.

“STOP!”

And again.

“STOOOOOOOOP!”

---

Lucas got out of the car a block away from the scene of the battle. Ever since the explosion, Berserker’s feed had been shorted out. He was still alive, the connection between them told him as much, but there was no telling what else might have happened to him. Perhaps he was still fighting. Perhaps he’d been beaten already. Or perhaps…

...Whatever it was he was expecting flew out the window when he saw the scene of devastation that was waiting for him. A fire hydrant had been torn off its tube, causing water to spray out like blood from an artery, leaving the entire street slippery and wet. A dozen car sirens were going off, in a discordant symphony, their glasses shattered in the best of cases.

Berserker stood alone at the center of a crater in the middle of the street, surrounded by malformed pieces of scrap iron, his legs and knuckles wet and bloody. On the floor beside him was a small, crumpled, bloody heap that barely looked human. At the edge of the crater, the little girl that Archer had been protecting had collapsed, sobbing incoherently as she stared at the scene of carnage before her.

“Greetings, Master.” Assistant’s voice was as calm and cheerful as ever. “I am pleased to report we managed to intercept our target, Servant Archer. The enemy has been neutralized.”

As if to emphasize those words, Berserker suddenly knelt down, slamming his fist against Archer’s face one last time.

“...No kidding,” Lucas murmured, fighting to hold back a combination of fear and disgust. He’d been to bad places before, but even then, he’d never seen anything like this.

“The Servant’s vital signs are fading fast, but her Master is still alive and functional. Should we proceed with termination for her as well, Master?”

His stomach churned for a second at the thought. Tear apart a girl so young she barely didn’t count as a child like this?

“No,” he said. Gritting his teeth, he turned around. “Get in the car. We’re done here.”