[FF] Grail Works, Ltd.: Fate/Anarchy (Type-Moon/Scion crossover)

[Kieran]

Okay, a few days too late, but I appreciate the joke you shared with this Character Sheet. Keep up the good work.

Glad you enjoyed it.

As to the regular story, RB should have his next chapter up within the next . . . oh, 24 hours or so, hopefully. In the meantime, I've done a little bit of writing, with a warning that it has very minor(-ish) spoilers for Episode 0 of Fate/Grand Order: Absolute Demonic Battlefront Babylonia.

Hopefully, you'll enjoy that, too . . .

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 37: The Saga of Erik Wolfsson




8:30 PM

Yggdmillenia Castle, Trifas




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hV20WcTqnU (X, The Legend ~ Remastered Tracks Mega Man Zero 2)

Erik stares at the Servants before him, as he continues walking down the ramp. "So, I saved your Master of Saber, by the way, as well as your Saber. Thought you'd appreciate that."




"I do recall you killing off a good chunk of our army the last time you came here, you damned Godling." Vlad's voice growls with irritation. "Plus, you used me as a battering ram against trees and mountains. That hurt, you know."



"Would you rather I simply went for collateral damage? I was attacking to reclaim the item lost to me that your Caster had discovered, after safety measures built into the damned thing went active. Safety measures, I might add, that had never activated for several Gods-damned MILLENIA."
Erik snarls the last few words, before he continues in a normal tone, "Considering the damned Ice Giants considered that thing to be worth spending 5 percent of their fortunes PER DAMNED YEAR in search for it, and I was lucky that my wife helped me find it first? Ensured that it would be safely hidden for the nearly 30 years we had that thing stored?"



Vlad steps back, his eyes widening, before narrowing as he contemplates Erik's words. "So, what sent it active?"



Erik snorts. "I became a God by wishing to force the Ragnarok to not happen, and with my drive, succeeding, Lancer of Black—as did my comrades in our little band of heroes with divine blood, turned Demigods, then Gods. Instead, all the Pantheons got hit at once, wiping most out instantly from what happened in its stead. The primal forces behind said bullshit were after it and myself, planning on using it to reconstitute one of their own, using it as fuel for the process."



"You went after me specifically, after I called you out, too..." Vlad narrows his eyes, murmuring.



"You insulted the one who finished off Jormungandr, and expected to not get a beating for it, Lancer of Black? Weakened I may choose to be, to ensure Gaia doesn't thrust me to the Far Side of the World, but I am still myself, and I still have most of my power." For a moment, Erik pauses in his reply. “But, I'm generous, and we're fighting against both side's Assassins, teamed up to murder us all. They're no doubt wondering why they can't find our corpses at the bottom of the mountain peak I detonated, while ensuring they thought we would be stuck under the landslide, so they're no doubt going to be digging out the entire mountain in an attempt to find my ship for several hours at the minimum. Furthermore, Ruler has stated that there is a truce until Assassin of Red, and her Master, is dealt with at a minimum. Considering Assassin of Black has joined their team, we may as well admit that we'll need each other's forces for security until they're dealt with.”



Vlad sighs, nodding. “Fair enough, I suppose. You'll be getting some of your forces here, then?”



Silently, Erik nods, and then sighs. “Pretty much—we've got one wounded Servant, who's lost an arm, as well as several other Servants that can likely help with defense until I can get some of my Legion of Coal here. How much do you think you'll need to drive off that damned flying castle, if it shows up?”



Vlad smiles, widely. “Would you give me everything you've got, if I asked for it?”



Erik snorts, laughing. “I'm the Norse God of Paranoia, amongst other things. Do you really think I'd give you accurate enough numbers to take my own forces out? I'll give you a decent fraction, though.”



“Oh? A fraction . . . I suppose that's fair.” Vlad nods, grinning. “And what would it take for you to throw everything you've got into helping my Master's forces repel that castle?”



At Vlad's words, Erik smiles. “Well, you've got a canned apocalypse in your basement I'd rather take care of NOW... but as for what it would take? Fuel—your side produces the fuel that they need to run on, especially the Mecha Fafnir Production Line, and we'll supply the mecha.”



At those words, Vlad pauses. “Merely fuel? No ammunition, no missiles, no explosives or gunpowder? No food, or water, or alcohol?”



At Vlad's words, Erik nods. “Indeed, fuel. You'd be surprised at how much gas those things can guzzle, and even though my Wolfen has plenty of fuel for itself on board, I didn't anticipate pulling the Mecha Fafnir Production Line out for this, or even getting into this in the first place. I'm more than capable of fueling them for any fights we may have ourselves, keep that in mind. But fueling for a mutual foe, followed by the likelihood of you attacking me the moment the truce is over? I'd rather not risk you attempting to wipe out the remainder of my own forces. Certainly you understand?”



At those words, Vlad smirks. “A fair man to match wits against . . . I'm glad we're not enemies, for now—though when the truce is over, expect things to be different.”



Erik nods. “To be fair, considering how messy that fight reportedly was, I expect we're likely going to have to keep the truce until both Assassins are dead and gone.” With those words, Erik folds his arms. “Now—most likely, that damned castle will be digging out the mountain peak all night. Meaning they'll likely strike tomorrow night, when things are safest. If you have any dependants in Trifas, or any people that your Master and his allies care about within the city, I'd suggest moving them.”



“Will you be bringing your warship in, then?” Chiron interjects, studying them both.



Erik chuckles. “If I absolutely need to, but I'd rather get the routine maintenance on the reactors done, while we have any down time to speak of. I'd rather not have several nuclear reactors go off as a result from one having issues and going 'boom', after all.” After a moment, Erik shakes his head before continuing. “I'd rather not leave most of Romania inhabitable from nuclear fallout, if you catch my drift. That prototype Fusion Reactor alone...”



At Erik's words, Vlad blanches, while Chiron winces before speaking up. “Are they that unpleasant? I know they're supposed to be destructive, but the Greater Grail didn't give me much information on them.”



Erik nods. “Loosely, the effects are the same as a several centuries length plague, along with a massive explosion at the heart of it. If one such explosion happened in this city, you'd see the entire thing gone, except maybe a few buildings at the very edges of the blast. Now, imagine what over a dozen such blasts, going off in a row, would do. It really wouldn't be pleasant.”



At his words, Vlad sighs, while Chiron sits back, rubbing his forehead with his good hand.



“Why would you have need of so much power, that you would have so many?” Chiron asks, almost glaring.



“The damned antigravity systems take up stupid amounts of power while over land, and it's easier, and less expensive, to have a nuclear reactor fueling each. In space, it's pretty easy to have it run on three reactors alone, but in air, against the gravity of a planet? It's far more costly.” With those words, Erik shrugs, before continuing. “It's been a damned long time since we had to fire up all of them properly, anyways, so it's better to ensure all the spare ones are working right. Especially with irregularities with several of the reactors—unless you'd rather we bring it into combat, and have it crash on the city from a reactor shutting down due to the irregularities?”



For a moment, Erik glances back at the city of Trifas, meaningfully, and lets them think over the consequences.



“It would be like a boot descending upon an ant's nest, wouldn't it?” Chiron asks, quietly.



At his words, Erik nods.



“Well, would you and yours please come in, then, oh Norse God of Paranoia?” Vlad smiles, with no pleasantness on his face. “My Master seems to wish to speak with you, perhaps work together properly to deal with the threat. Would you care for a meeting, food and wine perhaps?”



“Hang on a minute, then.” With those words, Erik turns around, walking into the ship, before pausing to add, “Would you and your Master prefer to meet my wife, as well—or perhaps another day?”



“Another day, I would think. It's rather late.” To Vlad's reply, Erik nods, then heads into the ship.



“All of you listen up: anyone that wants to meet the Servants and Masters of Black, feel free to get off the ship. Anyone who wants to stay can—the ship's batteries will hold until I get back, for certain, so anyone that wants entertainment, movies, radio, video games... You should have battery life for a couple hours worth of time.”



“Oh, hell yes—sounds good to me, Erik!” Mordred grins, while pulling herself off the ladder. “And make sure you call me by my name, will you? Stealth doesn't matter so much as kicking ass, and since they're allies for now, it doesn't matter too much.”



Erik sighs, nodding, before halting his movement as Archer climbs up as well. “Count me in, too. Rin will be meeting them, right? I'll need to ensure she doesn't get too mad.”



Erik nods, moving to the cockpit to look over the empty cockpit, then settles back in his seat, messaging the Wolfen with a quick text to send a fourth of the full mecha forces, as well as prepare 3,000 Legion of Coal units for the battle tomorrow, to be sent to Yggdmillenia Castle overnight, before chuckling.



Moments later, he's moving out, to look for the rest of the people on board. It takes time, on the massive ship, but he eventually finds Gordes looking in the engine room, having dragged Godafrid along with.



“It's quite amazing, all this machinery! Are you sure he wouldn't be convinced to work with Yggdmillenia, Godafrid?” Gordes asks, while studying the machinery.



“I'm not willing to fight on your side of the Grail War, if that's what you mean. But if you're asking about hiring me out, or asking me to design technology for you once all is said and done?” Erik grins. “I've got the cloning technology pretty much finished; my wife and I are just working out the last few kinks in the system, for example. Keep in mind I won't be selling you weapons until all is said and done, however. No offense, but I'd rather not arm your army's attempts to beat my own, if it comes down to that. Well, more than the man portable lasers I've got selling en masse as it is—those are fairly cheap, too.”



At Erik's words, Gordes narrows his eyes, before sighing. “Only fair, I suppose. The mecha are an equal to our golems, if more well-armed. Still... cloning, you say?”



Erik nods, folding his arms. “Mordred's Master—as well as the Master of Lancer of Red—both are pre-occupied with working as a team, as well as getting some of that technology for themselves. I'm sure that if you asked nicely enough, I could likely build, and sell you a unit as well. Once it's done working out the issues, of course.”



Gordes pauses, studying Erik carefully, as Godafrid glares at Erik with a look screaming ,“Are you serious? You are giving me SUCH a headache right now!”



“May I ask why you offer me such things?” Gordes muses. “Hoping to poach me from Yggdmillenia, perhaps?”



“Think less 'Poach' and more 'hoping to make a business arrangement with you once things are said and done. So far you're rather interesting to talk with, and from the little intelligence I've managed to gather, you're likely the source of the foot soldiers for the castle. Homunculi, I suppose?” Erik trails off for a moment, leaving Gordes nodding, before continuing. “Even someone like me needs allies as well as business partners.”



Gordes closes his eyes, thinking, for a long moment. “Go on, please.” Gordes sighs, as he studies Erik, taking a nearby seat. “I'm listening.”



“I'm not sure what entails your family's craft, or what the specifics are, but considering my cloning technology can be used to grow replacement limbs? Even full bodies, if slightly flawed ones? Add in that this is all divinely designed equipment, it may well help your magecraft, boosting it somehow. Add in that I'm an expert at cybernetics, prosthetics, and engineering, while my wife is an expert at things involving biology...” For a moment, Erik pauses, thinking on how to word things. “We could possibly look over things for you, offer suggestions, under a Geas contract to not spread the knowledge around, outside your family. Divinely-crafted equipment suffers issues, but divine attributes, and effects, do not.”



At Erik's words, Gordes goes still. “Exactly what do you mean by that?”



“Loosely putting it, a lot of divine skills could be considered to be under different systems, or divine realms. While the attributes that don't tap into any realm don't seem to work too well, divine skills imbued into a legendary relic do. My wife may have lost much of her power, but her skill with runes, and crafting things like glass, has not faded.” Erik pauses, thinking. “Damn, we've gotten away from things, haven't we? Just... Think about it, will you? You've been polite, and honestly interesting to talk with while on board. I'd rather not have you as an enemy once all is said and done, and since you've agreed to sign that contract, I thought I'd give you a business proposition.”



For a moment, Erik trails off, before smirking as he walks off. “Well, that and the fact that I’m pretty sure that with any luck, you could clone new limbs— or perhaps even magic circuits with the cloning method—given enough examples. Being the only one on the planet, to offer fully working cloned limbs with magic circuits would get you a lot of business, and help with your magecraft. Irregardless, give it some thought. I'll be checking to see if anyone else wants to go to your castle for dinner, since your boss has invited us in.”



“Why, exactly, would he offer me help, Godafrid?” Gordes asks, while staring at the doorway Erik left.



“Perhaps he's looking at long-term plans, over short-term fighting? That's what I suspect, anyways.” Godafrid looks at the hallway, then at Gordes.



“Hmm . . . Fair enough, I suppose. It would make sense, too.” Gordes sighs, before walking towards the exit.



“Indeed. It's honestly the only explanation that comes to my mind, anyways.” Godafrid rubs his temples, before following. “He gives me a damned HEADACHE to deal with, though.”



At Godafrid's words, Gordes laughs. “I think he gives us all headaches.”



2 minutes later




“Ah! Erik!” Mash smiles, as she spots him in the corridors. “Olga didn't take the flying too well, so she's lying down in one of the bedrooms, napping, along with Sapphire. I hope you don't mind too much?”



To her words, Erik smiles. “That's just fine. It's what they were made for, after all. Care to join us for dinner? I'm sure Fou's getting at least a bit hungry, after that long drive...”



Mash giggles, as Fou seems to smirk, before barking out a “Fou!” loudly.



“Should I take that as a yes, then, Fou?” To Erik's question, Fou nods repeatedly.



Mash giggles more. “He definitely seems hungry, anyways, from the looks of things! Is there anything I can do to help, Erik?”



Erik glances over, and then nods. “Can you identify any Servants they have? With what you went through, I suspect you'd have a better chance than most at doing that.”
She nods, but anything she might’ve said was interrupted by a new arrival.
“Oi! Erik!” Mordred walks in, grinning. “Wanted to ask if you need your lightsaber back? It might be a prototype, but it worked REALLY well against Assassin of Black's arm! Went through her arm, and destroyed all the tendons and muscles for her, like a hot knife through butter! Thought you might want it back in case you need to use it against their leader or some shit.”



To Mordred's words, Erik pulls out a small playing-card box, then flips out one piece of steel, into a small mirror. “I do have other weapons, to be honest, Mordred. Keep it for now. Anyways, with how things are going, we shouldn't need weapons, yet at least. Just keep in mind that I'm not sure if you can recharge it with how little power the prototype reactor is producing right now.”



“Yeah, no problem,” Mordred nods with a smile. “Lets me have a spare weapon besides Clarent, anyways! We'll have to test if the magically-created lightning Clarent can make can recharge it, too!”



To Mordred's delight, Erik laughs. “Sure, that sounds good! Let's test it on other stuff first, so we don't fry the prototype's batteries though, okay?”



Mordred laughs, as well. “Yeah, no problem!”



With a smile on his face, Erik walks towards the ramp, even as his fingers deftly replace the mirror in its customary deck of cards box.






The Hanging Gardens, Somewhere in the Carpathian Mountain Range



“So,” Shirou's voice rings out, as he studies things. “They aren't under the rock, like we thought?”



“No, Master. It appears they left some sort of illusory double of the ship. I'll admit, it's a clever spell, but it's still irritating.” Semiramis replies, as she leans her head back against her throne.



“I won't disagree on that, but it gives us a better idea of their defenses and abilities, does it not?” Shirou sighs, before walking closer to his Servant. “You did well, Semiramis. Thank you for aiding me in my great work. Even if nothing seems to be going as planned, we're still doing better than we were before.”



“Of course—this has been interesting, even if we face more opposition than you ever planned for. Then again, does any plan survive contact with an enemy?” Semiramis smiles, before continuing. “You should go to bed, Master. No doubt this has been draining for you, and we'll need you to recover as much of your strength as you can, before tomorrow's assault.”



Shirou nods, breathing out softly. “You're right. Thank you for all of this, Semiramis. I'm glad to have you as a partner.” With those words, he leaves.



Semiramis' smile turns into a more genuine smile of fondness, as she watches him leave.



8:45 PM




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TDp9L6jbXk (Densetsu, Kami no Na ha Abraxas ~ Revolutionary Girl Utena)



The dining room is a massive affair: the mahogany table looking like it was crafted from one single piece of wood, stretching two-thirds the size of the room alone.



On it lay steaming platters, covered with chicken, several soups, baked potatoes, baked sweet potatoes, a variety of carrots, broccoli and peas, as well as bowls of salads. At one end of the table, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia sits, a slight smile gracing his aristocratic features. To his left, sits Fiore, to his right, his Servant, Lancer of Black. Further down the table, sits the Masters and Servants of Black.



“Welcome, welcome! Please, do sit down and enjoy some hearty food! We are allies for now, are we not?” Darnic smiles as he adds, “For so long as the truce is ongoing, anyways.”



For one long moment, Erik studies them, as he sniffs the air, his nose testing the air for poisons, drugs, or worse. After a moment, he nods, moving forwards to bow. “Thank you for your kindness with this meal. Would you rather discuss things during the meal, or perhaps after we've had our share of food?”



Darnic chuckles softly. “Minor things, if you wouldn't mind.” To that, Erik nods, taking a seat across from Darnic, with Mordred moving to sit next to him.



Erik pauses, glancing back at the others, before chuckling softly at the contemplative look on Godafrid's face. “Go sit with your fiancée, Godafrid. I don't particularly care if they learn about me, so long as they sign that Geas contract first.”



Fiore gasps quietly, her eyes widening. “You... know?”



At Fiore's words, Erik chuckles. “It's hard to not notice cell phone signals, when you've taken control most of the computer networks on the planet to ensure we don't get noticed—especially those pesky spy satellites.”



Darnic pauses, and then sighs softly. “So every time they communicated, you picked up on things rapidly. Damnation.”



Erik just nods. “To be fair, I haven't acted on anything I've learned that way. I'd rather seal the Heart of Winter and then leave this a fair match.”



Timidly, Roche speaks up. “May I ask about it, then? Why Te—” He hesitates. “. . . Why my Caster found it?”



For a moment, Erik pauses, even as Rin and EMIYA settle down. “That is a long story, and I'm not sure how much I want to explain, irregardless of the fact that we're about to eat—perhaps a Cliffs Notes edition, keeping certain things secret?”



Caules and Fiore blink in unison, staring wide-eyed, even as Roche nods, Gordes starts looking intrigued, and Darnic settles back. “Please. I'd like to know why he had to...”



Erik sighs, softly. “As we eat, then.”
At that, food is served, by Homunculi servants. Mordred is the only one to bow her head and pray, before digging in. But as she does so, Erik's eyes widen slightly in surprise, before returning to his normal, calm expression.



It's not long before everyone starts eating, but Erik thinks for a while, before nodding. “To begin with, what do you understand of the Norse Pantheon? Much of anything?”



Roche pauses, then answers, “Supposed to all die at that... Ragnarok, right?”



Mordred nods, swallowing. “Definitely—all the major Gods die, with the few survivors going off to make a new pantheon of Gods, without the screwups of the old ones . . . It’s supposed to be impossible to change their fate.”



“Are you sure you want me to call you by your name?” Erik glances at Mordred. “We're in the middle of rival territory.”



At that, Mordred laughs. “Stop beating around the bush, already! For those of you who don't know me, I'm the one true Heir to Arthur Pendragon, Mordred!”


To Mordred's words, the Servants of Black blink in surprise. Erik just sighs, softly, as EMIYA smirks, before speaking up. “Entertaining, if nothing else, Erik; now get on with it.”


“Fine, fine . . . Well, I was one of those few brats born between a God and a mortal woman; Uller, to be precise—who took advantage of my mother and aunt for a threesome, not that I realized my cousin was my half brother until he was dead. But without my dear bastard of a father in my life, I still took up hunting . . . And wound up meeting a giant wolf who started following me. To lessons, in the woods, even at home, it watched me—one who I hunted, doing my best to trap, to figure out why it was so large, and why it would watch me.”




At that, Roche blinks in surprise. “Hunting?”



Erik nods, thinking. “After a while, I managed to catch that wolf, and was prepared to try and tame it, when it asked me to let it go. As you can imagine, the shock alone of a wolf asking me nicely to let it go was enough for me to do what it asked. He hadn't harmed me, I hadn't harmed it, except locking it in a cage . . . But I was a young brat, and was curious about the wolf. Especially since he told me how I 'Wasn't as bad as the rest of them' as he departed.”



Erik glances around the table, noting that most of the room has left their eating utensils on their plates, while staring at him, open mouthed, before continuing. “My reaction exactly—so I, being the headstrong young brat I was, worked to learn more about the wolf, talk with it. All the while, it followed me, studying me, trying to figure me out as well. Not that I exactly realized it at the time; I was too busy being barely 12 years old, trying to understand things that were entirely out of my perception. All I had to go on was that the wolf wasn't eating me, and asked nicely to be released. So rather than trap him, young me decided to try and feed him, and try to get some answers.”



At that, Mordred laughs. “Trying to tame a wolf, huh—a giant, talking wolf? Sounds like an epic out of legends already!”



Erik nods, eating a bit, before he continues. “Indeed, it was. Considering he was the size of a large pony—around 550 pounds?” For a moment, he pauses, before continuing. “Yeah, I was twelve, and trying to figure out how to feed a wolf, so I could learn more about him. Not exactly the most brilliant of moments—considering how much he ate, as I found out later—but somehow it managed to work, and we managed to connect. Well, we connected to a point, until six months later. That's when I came home to find him hiding in my attic, shivering, and asking me for aid.”



Roche breathes out, visibly awestruck. “Wow. That sounds fascinating!”



Erik nods, grinning. “It was, if truth be told. That day, I asked him what he could possibly fear. He told me that he feared my brethren. I had to ask if he meant mankind, or mankind's weapons. He then realized I had no idea of my heritage, and traded knowledge for sanctuary, as well as going on hunting trips with me.”



“Sanctuary?” Fiore asks shyly, almost timidly. “How would that work?”



“Norse Gods are particular about sanctuary, and offering it within their homes, Miss. But as I was saying . . . One day, several years later, we didn't get back in time for him to hide in my attic from his pursuers. So he proposed a contract with me. 'Fight alongside me, help me find a way to save my ancestor, and I will help you with whatever you wish as long as it doesn't hurt me or mine. Are we technically not related? Are we not technically brethren, as well? Aid me, and I shall aid you in whatever you wish for.'” Erik pauses, letting the contract sink in, after quoting Fenris. “I accepted, that day. Asked him if he had a name, and when he admitted he had none, I named him after his ancestor, the Fenris Wolf, as Fenris. He was one of the descendants of that legendary Wolf.”



“Wow. That's honestly out of old stories, isn't it?” Caules thinks aloud, rubbing his chin. “How does this pertain to things, though?”



“I'm still getting to that. Eventually, I wound up in a city, and met several other children between Gods and Mortals. Most places were meant as crucibles, to lift up their descendants to become Demigods, than Gods. Even if modern equipment existed there . . . It's not exactly simple to explain, and a great amount is covered under the Geas contracts you'd have to sign for all the details.” Erik sighs, sipping on some water, before continuing.



“Never the less, I and Fenris found ourselves journeying, searching for Relics that could unseal his ancestor's bindings; one was buried under that city. After a great, long search, Fenris appeared to die, ripped in half by a giant monster, and I met my future wife soon after—a beautiful kitsune maiden, capable of deadly illusions, and bewitching fires alike. But...The four of us set off, searching for those keys to the Fenris Wolf's bindings, as we grew in power. Eventually, after much fighting, we conquered Svartalfheim, the realm having been claimed by a dragon Saber of Black is familiar with; one that had managed to heal itself and drag itself to there, to nurse itself into a full recovery over time . . . Something about a one shot method of faking its death?”



At Siegfried's sudden pale look, Erik nods. “Yeah, he was a nasty bitch to fight. But after that, one of the two others that I journeyed with claimed the kingship of Svartalfheim for his own. And we set out to seal Surtr away, with the help of Odin, once we eventually became Gods in our own right, those members born of different pantheons having chosen to all be of the Aesir, because they chose to follow my mad desire to help the Fenris Wolf. And so we did. The first Metal Gear Rex fell to that dragon, and the Mark 2 fell to Surtr, while the Mecha Fafnir MK1 helped defeat Surtr, long enough for him to be sealed. But in that moment, reality shook.”



“May I ask why?” Darnic asks, quietly, while eating some of his food.



“Fate itself fought us, to try and keep Surtr from being sealed. And Fate being denied was . . . Unpleasant, but we pushed through. Later, though . . . We wound up all training under Thor, to be strong enough to fight Jormungandr. My wife was knocked out quickly in that battle; my hoverpod, full of water—but the Radiant Wave Surger, used by the King of Svartalfheim, was enough to deal Jormungandr a grievous blow, knocking him out of his most well-used spell, at the cost of the device.”



“What would that be?” Fiore asks, curiously.



“I can answer that.” Gordes interjects. “It's a melee ‘nuke weapon’ of some sort. He mentioned it while flying us here. It looks like it doubles as crude shields of some form for that ship out there.”



“A melee... Nuke weapon?” Fiore wonders. “What do you mean by ‘nuke?’”



“It means ‘atomic’—if I'm right, it's a nuclear pulse emitter weapon,” Caules muses, before pausing, and staring at Erik with a suddenly pale face. “Does that mean you have nuclear warheads?!”



“I'd rather not use them, unless Zelretch's warning about Caster of Black had come to fruition. He was rather clear about your Caster being ready to start an apocalypse, after all . . . “ Erik shrugs. “It might be handy being a one man nuclear state, but I'd rather not have to deal with the fallout of using that sort of weaponry.”



At that, Caules slowly nods. “So by fighting us the way you did, it was nicer than you simply destroying us all and sifting through the ashes for the remains of the Greater Grail, as well as that Heart of Winter. “ He hesitates, the words almost visibly stuck in his throat. “I . . . Just—thank you, for that.”



At that, Erik nods. “Where was I? Right... we fought Jormungandr, that day. But one of my skills finished him off—froze the bastard solid, turning him into a solid chunk of ice. I tried to take his head for a trophy wall, but the bastard was made out of ice, so he shattered when I tried. But when it happened, reality shook worse. Time itself was bending; reality was on the verge of breaking. And in the middle of it, the love of my life woke back up. She took us back in time by... Roughly seventy years, to dodge the worst of the fallout of reality not working right.
“And in that place, I met the Fenris Wolf.”



“That day . . . That day was the most scared I've ever been,” Erik admits. “I had the key to unlock his bindings—the only thing left to do was to convince him to work with me, to see things from my perspective. It took me fifty-four years—over half a century of talking with him, explaining things to him. Working out his grief; helping him realize how things could work, how things could be, if he simply worked with us, instead of wanting to murder my Pantheon. How drooling on Odin's head, to make his life miserable, and pranking Odin in general would be a better option. How taking him with me to hidden bases, and secret locations no God would dare chase us to, would keep him safe from being captured and chained once more—and, eventually? It worked. But . . .”



“But what? What happened?” Roche asks, quietly.



“At the same time, my work to break the Fenris Wolf free, broke a lot of seals, and let a lot of things happen that I don't enjoy talking about. I'm sure you can understand. Plus, no offense, but I don't exactly trust your family fully yet. Paranoia is very much a part of my nature, since I'm the Norse God of it, amongst other things. However, I will say a result of all that resulted in the Heart of Winter leaving my Wolfen in the middle of being moved back to reality, and sent crashing towards Earth.”



Roche silently nods, while the rest of the table looks contemplative, even as Erik digs in, enjoying the food before him.



After a long while of eating, Darnic speaks up. “What, may I ask, are you the God of, then?”



For a moment, Erik studies Darnic, before shrugging and answering, “Paranoia, Pykrete, Innovation, and Mecha. Technically, it should be Mechanical Equipment, but I like to shorten it to Mecha, because I build so many giant robots, or mechs. I did marry a Japanese Kitsune, as you'll recall. And she likes giant robot shows as much as any other Otaku would, so she insists on them being called mecha.”



“Would you be interested in bringing her over, then? I wouldn't mind meeting this Kitsune wife of yours.” Caules asks, studying Erik carefully.



To that, Erik nods. “Would you rather I bring her here, along with equipment, tomorrow? While reinforcing this place? Or would you rather I stay and talk with your leader? Either way works, though you won't get as much equipment from me if it's the latter . . .”



“Perhaps she could come for a few hours to meet tonight, then? I'd like to discuss options for our truce, and how we might possibly extend this for after things are said and done.” Darnic speaks, leading Erik to stare Darnic in the eye for a long moment.



“Fair enough—a few hours tonight, then.”



With those words, they all return to finishing off the well made meal.



Author's Notes:
I just... sorry for taking so long with this chapter, folks. But if you want anything pointed out as the main issue? That dinner chunk is the main issue. Rewriting, rewording, working out how things might be said... all isn't easy.



Plus, I'm working on Interlude 2.5 as well, so there's THAT to consider, too.

[Xamusel]

Dude, you forgot to edit the chapter, since it looks like you double-posted it.

[RanmaBushiko]

Dude, you forgot to edit the chapter, since it looks like you double-posted it.

Ugh. Thanks for spotting that, I didn't even notice that my edit changed it to have double posting. (Insert copious amounts of swearing here about it.)

Probably from my firefox browser being a mess, and not having the tabs scroll bar unless I'm in safe mode right now.

[Xamusel]

Ouch... I feel ya, man. I really do.

[Arbitrarity]

I'd think a fusion reactor wouldn't actually have much fallout. Massive explosion from containment break, possibly, though I actually wouldn't expect even that. for example, if you shut down the electromagnets on a torus, I'd expect generation to mostly just stop: fusion requires massive temperature, and when your ionized hydrogen splatters out and around your reactor, it also cools off, which stops it from continuing to react. That's why the electromagnets are there, to keep it in a confined space so it doesn't cool off, sustaining the reaction. And fusion power doesn't actually produce any radioactive elements, as far as I remember. You won't get power from producing anything heavier than iron, and even that's a lot of work, so it only tends to happen in suns. You might spill some heavy water or tritiated water somewhere, since those are your fuel, but even that's not actually dangerous unless you drink it over a long period, or manage to replace half the water in your body with it.

The 17 fission reactors, being home-made, are a totally different story. Those can definitely explode, given that Erik made them without the benefit of decades of focus on safety in reactor design, and the fuel/spent fuel are dangerous enough on their own if you spread them over an area. Should have gone with thorium.

Godafrid does not like Erik interfering in the timeline. Cloning Magic Circuits probably has unfortunate implications for the Nasuverse balance of power, since I think you can graft those, and that's a bit spooky. Mystic Eyes are probably similar. Normally, I'd expect cloning to be pretty similar to growing a homunculus, just slower, but presumably Erik has some divine magitech cloning that lets him create specific things (and avoid the ethical problem of harvesting limbs and organs from potentially-intelligent beings)

That's a communication mirror and weapon, you mentioned in Erik's character sheet

Unrelenting Hoarfrost, Mirror/Discus Set
+2 Accuracy, 7 lethal, 30 range, 4 speed, Piercing.
This has liquid nitrogen injectors on the sides of the mirror, which add 4 extra damage to this. It counts as a lethal poison per hit, that doesn't affect the body when it's not in contact.

When not in use, all 3 mirrors fold up to sit in a small box meant for a deck of cards, and can automatically return to the box if not used.

The mirrors can also communicate with each other, or other pieces of the obsidian glass used with them. The one in Erik's goggles, for example, or Tamamo's shield.

So he's either surreptitiously communicating what he's saying to someone, or just pulling it out because it's a weapon, as an example. The latter seems much more likely.

Definitely interesting seeing most of Erik's backstory spelled out. I was wondering why he started in the Hunting purview. I feel like giving that much information to the Black faction isn't really a good idea, since most of it barely relates to why the Heart would activate, apart from the bit at the end about breaking seals, which is mostly redacted. On the other hand, it does make it look like he explained it while not really doing so.

[Kieran]

Godafrid does not like Erik interfering in the timeline.

No, indeed - and that's putting it mildly. Of course, among other things, he's trying to stick to the Works' operating procedure of subtle, covert actions; and for as paranoid as he is, Erik REALLY, REALLY doesn't do "subtle."

. . . Essentially, Frid's convinced this is all going to end in flames and tears - above and beyond even the normal Apocrypha timeline - and frantically trying to figure out how to deal with the inevitable fallout.

Cloning Magic Circuits probably has unfortunate implications for the Nasuverse balance of power, since I think you can graft those, and that's a bit spooky. Mystic Eyes are probably similar.

Yes. Yes to all.

Normally, I'd expect cloning to be pretty similar to growing a homunculus, just slower, but presumably Erik has some divine magitech cloning that lets him create specific things (and avoid the ethical problem of harvesting limbs and organs from potentially-intelligent beings)

With the way first-edition Scion works, it wouldn't be inaccurate to consider Erik as having some access or equivalency to the First Magic: creating things ex nihilo.


. . . And the sad part is, this is a very accurate representation of how Erik acted in-game when I was running it - so many HEADACHES . . .

[Xamusel]

...uh-oh. I am not liking the looks of this...

No, seriously, I'm not liking how this will look for the future of the story.

[RanmaBushiko]

I'd think a fusion reactor wouldn't actually have much fallout. Massive explosion from containment break, possibly, though I actually wouldn't expect even that. for example, if you shut down the electromagnets on a torus, I'd expect generation to mostly just stop: fusion requires massive temperature, and when your ionized hydrogen splatters out and around your reactor, it also cools off, which stops it from continuing to react. That's why the electromagnets are there, to keep it in a confined space so it doesn't cool off, sustaining the reaction. And fusion power doesn't actually produce any radioactive elements, as far as I remember. You won't get power from producing anything heavier than iron, and even that's a lot of work, so it only tends to happen in suns. You might spill some heavy water or tritiated water somewhere, since those are your fuel, but even that's not actually dangerous unless you drink it over a long period, or manage to replace half the water in your body with it.

The 17 fission reactors, being home-made, are a totally different story. Those can definitely explode, given that Erik made them without the benefit of decades of focus on safety in reactor design, and the fuel/spent fuel are dangerous enough on their own if you spread them over an area. Should have gone with thorium.

Godafrid does not like Erik interfering in the timeline. Cloning Magic Circuits probably has unfortunate implications for the Nasuverse balance of power, since I think you can graft those, and that's a bit spooky. Mystic Eyes are probably similar. Normally, I'd expect cloning to be pretty similar to growing a homunculus, just slower, but presumably Erik has some divine magitech cloning that lets him create specific things (and avoid the ethical problem of harvesting limbs and organs from potentially-intelligent beings)

That's a communication mirror and weapon, you mentioned in Erik's character sheet

So he's either surreptitiously communicating what he's saying to someone, or just pulling it out because it's a weapon, as an example. The latter seems much more likely.

Definitely interesting seeing most of Erik's backstory spelled out. I was wondering why he started in the Hunting purview. I feel like giving that much information to the Black faction isn't really a good idea, since most of it barely relates to why the Heart would activate, apart from the bit at the end about breaking seals, which is mostly redacted. On the other hand, it does make it look like he explained it while not really doing so.

For the Fusion reactor? Yes, yes it is. But they don't know that, do they? Right now, he's taking advantage of his advantage as a God of Innovation and Machines, to effectively bullshit them with technobabble. So far? It's working like a charm. And would they easily be able to call him out on his bullshit? Not likely. Especially if he just remarks "Oh, hey, that's an interesting method for it! Why didn't I think of that when I was designing it? Yeah, no, mine will go off with a stupidly large explosion if I'm not careful. Whoops? Better luck for the Mk2, am I right, or am I right?" as an answer to them calling him out on his bullshit.

As for thorium? Yeah, he'll be learning that soon enough. A good chunk of why will be revealed, for why it was so difficult, too. A hint, though. Most Gods didn't like nukes getting made in the first place, for the Scion setting, and outright ensured most couldn't be detonated.

You'll find out the reasons for Erik pulling this sort of offer, from the next chapter from me. There is more going on than you'd think with how Erik's being Grandiose here. Yes, he's using it as an example. But he's never said what the price is, has he?

No, indeed - and that's putting it mildly. Of course, among other things, he's trying to stick to the Works' operating procedure of subtle, covert actions; and for as paranoid as he is, Erik REALLY, REALLY doesn't do "subtle."

. . . Essentially, Frid's convinced this is all going to end in flames and tears - above and beyond even the normal Apocrypha timeline - and frantically trying to figure out how to deal with the inevitable fallout.




Yes. Yes to all.




With the way first-edition Scion works, it wouldn't be inaccurate to consider Erik as having some access or equivalency to the First Magic: creating things ex nihilo.


. . . And the sad part is, this is a very accurate representation of how Erik acted in-game when I was running it - so many HEADACHES . . .

And as I talked about with Kieran on skype, there's GOOD reasons for this, that will be starting to be seen in Chapter 39. Mwahahahaha.

...uh-oh. I am not liking the looks of this...

No, seriously, I'm not liking how this will look for the future of the story.

*Chuckles* Erik... is very much playing to his strengths right now. He's a big Norse fellow, he's nice, he's not a manipulative bastard, because he subscribes to the theory of "Why manipulate when you can convince them to follow you and choose it of their own volition?" and goes well with it. He's a charismatic bastard, he knows it, and he knows how to influence people with it. Giving them just enough incentive that nearly every Master, and FORMER Master of Black will think about signing a Geas contract in return for information and long term power?

Of course, the price for signing such a contract, on the other hand...

[RanmaBushiko]

So, no chapter yet, though I'm pretty far in my next one. Instead, you get to have another chunk of the interlude and the ever growing question of "What the hell is going on in the original timeline?!" to ponder.


Interlude 2.5




Shirou and Semiramis, Part 2




I study Sakura Ulricsonr Frostdóttir carefully, as I sit, watching her. She still has her knife close to my throat, and every movement she makes keeps her in a position where she can watch my arms and legs, carefully.




“How many will die if I say yes to your offer?” To those words, her eyes widen in surprise and more than a little hope, before she smiles softly. Just like Semiramis did back then...




“All those that refuse to bow to their new Lord and Master, as he will be YOUR Lord and Master. But it won't be so bad.” She smiles softly. “The Great Leader will do all he can to convince them that your surrender will be their salvation, and that their salvation lies in working as we tell them to. You won't need to survive on their faith anymore, either. There may be some culling, those that won't listen will be dealt with, and rebellions will be crushed... but after it's all said and done, the rest will serve, as they always should have, and those of humanity that will take their rightful place, and serve, shall live.”



I breathe out, as I think. “Why not talk with us, then? Explain it to us, rather than just send wave after wave of your creations at us, trying to slaughter us?”




For a moment, she pauses, thinking about how to word things. “At first... the Great Leader couldn't. It was emotions, more than anything else. But seriously? Why fight for mortals that will never grow better? They have no use except as cannon fodder and restoring faith.”



I raise an eyebrow. “You do recall that I was one of those mortals, before I became a Servant, and then attained Apotheosis, right? First, as a Martyr, then as a God.”




At that, she pauses, looking contrite. “I... damn. Little wonder you protect them, then. If you started as one of the vermin, and became like this, they truly do have potential, don't they? And yet... has anyone else ascended? Has anyone else achieved anything like you?” She studies me, carefully.



“A few have grown close. All those of my Ashen Legion have grown as close to Apotheosis as they could, but chose to become less Gods, to rival me, and more... Angels, to do my will.”




“Why? Why Angels, instead?” She looks at me, carefully, as I let myself think over the answer.



“Partially? Out of fear. Mankind, out of your father's domain, simply doesn't have the numbers to support multiple Gods anymore. The other reason why...is your siblings, that are still working on our side. We wished to give them time for room and growth before growing to be equals.” I study her, as I finish.




She pauses, her mind working over this new information, before stilling. “They deliberately chose to not be Gods, then, so that you would have the power to fight us as equals? They chose to not ascend...?” I nod to her words.



“They gave it up, in order to see the creations of your Great Leader fought against. So their families would live, one year longer, even.” To my words, she stills, then sighs. “So we've been mislead, a little, then. They do have the potential to join us, after all... I'll have to talk with the Great Leader once this is said and done.”




“Why do all this, then? What were you getting out of it?” I murmer, studying her. “Why trust them when you've been mislead?”



She pauses, thinking. “Aside from oaths I've sworn, to see my family become one again? To work for the Great Leader as well as I can? They swore to me that humanity could never ascend to divinity, that they were nothing more than chattel. Wheat to be harvested, workers to be used...” She trails off, her voice low, as she thinks.




“Would Alaya have anything to do with this, then? The willpower and consciousness of humanity?” I prod, studying her.



She tilts her head, blinking. “Are those the ones that die quick to me and the Great Leader, with the occasional injury? I suppose that could be irritating, to my youngest siblings. To be honest, I never really noticed the occasional assassination attempt from them except as an irritant.”




Hmm. That would mean... I sigh, softly. “I wondered if it was that. Then why send beasts to slaughter humanity so damned much?”



Her eyes sharpen, as she studies me carefully. “With this world as skewed as it is, humanity constantly being assaulted by monsters, and beasts that they can barely fight should be par for the course. Not the ecosystem that this planet had towards the end, skewing Gaia's mindset towards seeing all mankind slaughtered for things to be 'fixed'. You should know this.”




To her words, I pause as I think. She doesn't seem to be wrong, but the sheer amounts of Frostspawn that assaulted the cities...



“Why the vast hordes, then? Tens of millions of Frostspawn assaulting cities daily is too much for anything but the best of our people.” To that, she pauses. “Tens of millions? Daily? Have they truly made so many?”




I nod. “If I may show you? I should have a laptop...” She indulges me, letting me move, to grab mine, boot it up, then pull up video footage of the armies seen at each city wall, the last year alone. “This is video footage from your father's own cameras. It also has tallying number systems for each Frostspawn that attacks each city. If you watch...”



I press play for her, watching her reaction as she stares at near countless hordes by a mortal man's reckoning, easily counted. It even shows a kill counter, for each city. And I can see the moment in her eyes when she realizes that the numbers aren't a lie. “Per day, you say? That's...”




“I've wanted to open up channels to talk with your Great Leader, and arrange peace for thousands of years. But every time I tried to send diplomats, they were eaten by Frostspawn, and I recieved my diplomats skulls back without their heads, or any flesh or blood. I've tried to communicate, to send messages, to ask questions... everything I could do, I've reasonably tried, only to be met with assassins, murder attempts, and that being himself trying to stomp on me one time. And I've always wanted to know why. Is it truly to have humanity as a servant race? Or is it to see all others that could possibly hurt it, brought low? Made to forget any possible way to hurt it?”



She stills further, as she thinks it over. Her hand with her knife, however, slowly starts shaking as she thinks things over. Not towards my throat, thankfully, but it still worries me a bit.



“More than that, why not let us work to evacuate humanity from the Earth? Move towards the stars, or let us live in peace, like your father has worked for? He's worked to move us to space, to the moon, or Mars... or even to another solar system, but every time he makes any progress, your siblings do their best to destroy his work.”



At that, she stills completely. “According to the Great Leader... survival on other planets isn't possible, flat out, because of the Types that rule each world. Father would have to kill one. But colonizing space? Why didn't I think of that? Space stations would give father the room, easily... and they've been getting sabotaged?”



“Yeah. They have been, each time the computers are ready, some of your siblings sneak in and do what they can to destroy them or steal them. Almost as if your siblings are trying to make weapons that can reach outer space and anyone that makes it that far up.”




I watch her, as she sits, still watching me with her eyes carefully studying me, before I speak up. “You know? You said earlier, that your mommy and daddy couldn't kill you?”



She nods, quietly, before I continue. “They still want to be your parents. They told me how scared they were, that they were worried that your Great Leader might have mental manipulation abilities. They want to check. They want to help you, all of you. To save you from any manipulations he might do.”




“Really? And what could they do, to counter the contract I've made with the Great Leader?” She studies me, silently.



“I don't know for certain, but your father is rumored to possess some form of key that can remove any lock or binding...” I trail off, letting her think.



“And thus, I could come home, hmm?” She whispers, and sighs. “I know I'm being manipulated. I'm not stupid. But as things are, they can't continue like this. Not the way things have been. Mommy and Daddy... they can't continue much longer with what the Great Leader has planned.”



I put my hand forwards. “Back then, with Semiramis, I teamed up with her. A former Ruler Servant, wishing to save Humanity, using the Greater Grail to force their souls to be more than their bodies made them to be. So humanity would be saved from grief, and pain. I failed, at that, when your Great Leader became what he is, using the Heart of Winter, and absorbing the Greater Grail. But that doesn't mean I couldn't take your help, and hers once more.”




She stills, studying me, as I continue. “Work with me. Not to fight for your Great Leader, but to fight by my side. Judge me by my dream, to save humanity. Let me show you the proof that they aren't useless. Work by my side, live by my side, fight beside me and let me show you how far they've come, how many can truly become Gods if we help them. We don't have to fight. We don't have to be enemies. All you have to do, is give me a chance to show you that they aren't just chattel, but have a chance to evolve to be like we are.”



For a moment, she looks down, clenching her fist around the knife as tight as she can. As she does so, I continue. “Perhaps we could use the Greater Grail, so we could have peace with him? Perhaps we could work out a deal, so champions fight Grail Wars, rather than the millions of Frostspawn assaulting humanity daily. The hundreds of millions assaulting your father's city daily. Or perhaps we could work together for true peace?”




She steps back, her eyes looking into mine. And I reach forwards, taking her free hand gently. “Please. Would you let me show you that there is more to things than what you've been told? Even if it takes a Geas Oath, or Geas Contract, I'll sign one to show you that it shouldn't have to be this way. That there shouldn't have to be fighting.”



She looks conflicted. Perhaps there's a better argument than this, that I could be making?






List of questions asked:

How many will die if I say yes?

Why are you doing all this?
Does Alaya have anything to do with this?
Why won't you let us evacuate humanity, move them to the stars? Or perhaps the Moon? Or perhaps even Mars?

Why was there no efforts made to negotiate? Why did your "Great Leader" just attack, assault, and do it's best to slaughter us so damned much?

Could we use the Greater Grail to make a contract, so we can have peace?




Author's notes:




You've made her realize there's a massive gap between what she's been told, and what reality is, with your questions.




That doesn't necessarily make her an ally. What else will you ask her? Or will you hope that Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, reborn as the God Shirou Kotomine, has asked her, talked with her, enough to convince her that she may be wrong, and threw her alliance to the wrong side?

[Kieran]

Somewhere else
Unknown time








Darkness—but, within that darkness, a sense of something lighter, moving within it; much like the sun, when seen behind closed eyelids. And a voice, feminine but somehow off, with a timbre not quite human . . .

“—Start, confirmed. Welcome back; a pleasure to see you. Hello, welcome—as always, I’ve kept you waiting for quite a while, Master.”

The term was familiar . . . Or was it the voice? Did he know this person?

“This is the Spiritron World SERIAL PHANTASM,” the voice continued. “Abbreviated as SE.RA.PH and built in virtual space, it is Tsukimihara Academy.” There was a brief pause. “Excuse me, but regulations require me to scan your data values . . .”

Some of this sounded familiar, but it was primarily confusing. Enough of what he was being told sparked recognition, but not enough to bring out details—it was like remembering the information was somewhere in the book, but not the page number.

. . . Why was this happening? And why did it feel like he was halfway between waking and dreaming?

Pulsing lights and sounds that wouldn’t have been out of place on a science-fiction program interrupted what little thought process he had, followed by another set of statements from the mysterious voice.

“Label: Admitted student. Category: Administrative authority, special access. Quality: C+ . . . Confirmed. Now then, I will load your records from the Other Side.”

There was another flash, followed by an electronic screech and hiss of static, as the darkness turned to a dull, amber light.

“My apologies,” the voice intoned. “There was a failure in record access. ‘Your name’ is a required field. ‘Your heart’ is a required field. ‘Proof of existence’ is a required field. Please enter your name, gender and contracted Servant once more.”

A screen of sorts appeared before him, dotted with symbols that looked Asian, before an eye-blink at the sudden brightness the screen provided resolved the characters into English letters.

“Gender” was easiest—“male” was entered immediately. After a moment’s thought, a name swam to mind, and he entered that as well (noting that his hands had become both visible and clearly male hands in the process). Spotting an entry for “nickname” in addition, he paused and contemplated it briefly.

“Frid,” he decided, entering the name as he spoke it, before hitting the final confirmation—it was a diminutive of a version of his actual name, so not something that would sound as ridiculous as a white guy with a Japanese name, but not his real one, either.

Once the screen holding that data disappeared, a second one came up, with the words [Running compatibility algorithm, please wait . . . Match found.]

“Confirmed,” the voice said cheerfully. “Thank you for your patience, Mister Frid.”

Why did that bright, happy tone suddenly fill him with dread?

“Good morning,” it continued, blithely oblivious to his thoughts. “Now then, have a safe trip.”

At those words, the world suddenly went white—and “dread” swiftly gave way to “panic” . . .








Tsukimihara Academy (?)
Far Side, Moon Cell








The last few hours (had it been only hours?) had been trying, to put it mildly.

To start with, Frid had apparently found himself in the world of Fate/EXTRA—which was not only quite different from being dead, as he’d expected to be, it wasn’t the world of the Works’ home base, either, which he’d have expected Ilya to recall him to if he had survived that mission in Spira . . .

Heck, unless the Moon Cell functioned very differently from what he’d read, there was no way for it to have recorded him at all, so what the hell was he doing here?

There was no sign of Shiki, either, which crossed off the most obvious theory: that Ilya had finally cracked the Moon Cell’s protections to the point where he could be sent in as backup. Why Ilya would send him, exactly, given that he’d lost his druidic identity was unclear; maybe it was simply that the Moon Cell likely didn’t have a record of him, therefore couldn’t spot him as an obvious anomaly (i.e., a duplicate of a pre-existing record)?

Then again, his current “self” (digitised body? Avatar? He wasn’t quite sure how the manifestations worked) in the Moon Cell wasn’t quite correct, either. Without the blend of Kieran Holt’s elements, he ought to be a middle-aged, six-foot, 65-kilogram Caucasian weakling with light chestnut hair, blue eyes, permanently bent knees, spaghetti arms, and more physical ailments than a single human really ought to be allowed to suffer.

The height was correct, as was the colouration, but as to the rest? He looked about student age, had more muscle than he’d ever seen on anyone in person, and was currently dressed in a school uniform—something he’d never worn in his life. It wasn’t the standard Fate/EXTRA uniform, either; where that one had the pale, sandy colours of the uniforms Shirou and Rin’s school used, this was a black-with-white-trim number that he actually thought looked kind of sharp.

. . . Although why his brain—and the Moon Cell—identified it as “Mystic Code: Memoria of the Far Side of the Moon,” he had no idea. Wasn’t that supposed to be from Fate/Grand Order . . .?

That was another oddity: unlike seemingly everyone else here, he still possessed his memories, rather than the preprogrammed personas of “normal high school students” the Moon Cell forced on prospective Masters. He could see Command Seals on his hand, and actually had access to a terminal, and could check the status of things—although when he tried to find out why, it only told him that he was rated as “Administrator: Special Access,” whatever that meant. And the fact that his “terminal” looked like a smartphone—something else he’d never touched in his life—Frid put down to the Moon Cell’s apparent sense of humour; it did cast Kirei Kotomine as the administrator of its Holy Grail War, after all . . .

Regardless, he could safely say that he had no certain idea of where or when he was: there were enough inconsistencies to allow for doubt, after all. Including not only some kind of nun that claimed to be Taiga Fujimura, but the presence of Hakuno Kishinami—and the female version, at that—within this same pseudo-setting. At least her presence allowed her to take on her usual role, rather than him; given his luck and the strange circumstances, he’d not have been surprised to find out that this setting regarded him as Hakuno’s placeholder, otherwise.

And if he’d wound up finding Shinji Matou acting like his “friend,” Frid would’ve made a genuine effort to discover whether the rule against attacking Masters outside of the Arena was enforced before the Grail War had actually started. Plus, Hakuno-chan, it had to be admitted, was kind of cute . . .

No—those were bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Regardless of gender, Hakuno had the Sorcery Trait “Eroge Protagonist”—no good would come of associating with her!

. . . Unfortunately, all his efforts at cautious observation appeared to be for nothing when black, static-y stuff, like a digital version of the corrupted Holy Grail’s “mud”—and wasn’t that a terrifying thought?—had started devouring the school and everyone in it.

Frid had run, of course. His newly-enhanced physique turned out to be pretty good at it, and he was smart enough to follow Hakuno-chan when he spotted her; since the protagonist was almost guaranteed to survive, it made sense to try and hide behind her plot armour, didn’t it?

She didn’t appear to notice his presence in her panicked desperation, and he didn’t waste breath trying to alert her, either.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Hakuno had wound up putting them through one of the Bad Ends, as both he and she wound up on the roof, being devoured (deleted?) by darkness, and taunted by a Sakura-like voice as worthless nobodies no better than insects . . . The judgmental arrogance in that voice stung, and he held out stubbornly in the sensory deprivation of the void out of sheer, petty spite.

If Frid was good at anything, after all, it was his ability to hold a grudge past all limits of rationality.

The Command Seals on his hand burned, and from that fire, a hand formed, grasping his own . . .

“Yay! You picked me!” said a gleeful girl’s voice.

As the blackness of absolute nothing gave way to a gently-lit, star-filled void, he beheld a smiling schoolgirl, attired in the feminine version of his own uniform. She was rocking back and forth on her heels despite the lack of a defined plane to serve as “ground,” causing her long, chestnut ponytail to swing in time with her movements. A cheerful smile adorned her face, and her bottle-green eyes seemed to gleam with genuine delight.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Master!” the girl exclaimed cheerfully. “You can call me—” She stopped, a rosy hue suffusing her cheeks to accompany her sudden frown. “Oh, now that’s just rude . . .”

“Pardon?” Frid asked, frowning.

“Nothing important,” she assured him quickly. “Nothing to worry about at all . . .”

Frid flinched as, from nowhere, the same electronic screech and static hiss that had accompanied SE.RA.PH’s attempts to load his records sounded.

“There!” the girl said in satisfaction. “Problem solved!”

“What problem?” Frid asked reasonably, still terribly confused. “And didn’t I see you in the school? That should mean you’re a student, not a Servant, right . . .?”








She couldn’t believe her luck—both good and bad.

The fact that she’d “come back” could be either/or, after all—as was where she’d found herself. It was still a prison, but a much bigger one; and she wasn’t alone in it, this time, but had far less control over things.

And so she’d fallen back into old habits, at first; did her best to stay unobtrusive until she’d figured out what was going on, and how things worked. What she’d uncovered made her glad of her caution—there might be happiness to be found here, if she tried really hard, but otherwise, this “school” was even worse than its predecessor, in some ways. Still, while she’d prepared for the possibility (and was glad it had worked), she hadn’t anticipated needing to directly intervene like this so soon. Nor had she counted on the “compatibility system” working as well as it apparently did . . .

She couldn’t see everything (she didn’t have the direct or administrative access to, and wasn’t sure that she could use his without tipping off the system), but he was like her: lonely and out of place. Why else would someone who could program any name and appearance for their avatar use a Caucasian teen in a Japanese school setting? And from the expression he’d had on her first appearance, she thought it was clear that he found her pretty . . .

And best of all, his lack of otherwise reacting to her proved that, despite her recorded popularity, he had no idea who she was.

Still, she supposed, there was one ultimate test of that—if he didn’t react to this, then he definitely didn’t know her, and she could try again with a clean slate. Maybe she’d even win honestly, this time?

“A girl has her hobbies,” she admitted, in answer to his question. “. . . In any case, Master—when we’re in the open, or in battle, you can call me ‘Caster.’

“But when we’re alone . . .” She paused, briefly, and hesitantly smiled as she spoke.

“To you, Master, I’m just Monika.”

[Xamusel]

...Kieran? Who's Monika?

[Kieran]

...Kieran? Who's Monika?

You poor, innocent soul . . .






Meet Monika. She ran a particularly popular literature club, at her old school - and now, thanks to Shinji, she's been able to transfer to Tsukimihara Academy! Smart, beautiful, artistic and athletic, Monika will no doubt steal the heart of many a student there; but for the one who manages to catch hers, there's no need to worry - she's nothing if not devoted . . .

[Xamusel]

(/)_-) I forgot that was a thing... sadly.

[Kieran]

(/)_-) I forgot that was a thing... sadly.

Well, aren't you lucky . . .


Under normal circumstances, I think, Monika would be happy to have BB-chan as her kouhai (a match made in Hell if ever there was one); however, now Monika has a real chance at a way out - and BB-chan's games are getting in the way . . . And we know what Monika does to obstacles . . .

[Xamusel]

Uh, no, I don't know what she does to the obstacles here.

[RanmaBushiko]

Uh, no, I don't know what she does to the obstacles here.

No love for my latest interlude?

I kid, I kid.

Seriously, though... all I think of when I read your response is "You poor, sweet summer child..." and rub my forehead. Kieran agreed with me on the phrasing, as we chatted about it on skype, and who'd reply to this one. (He's not exactly sure how to reply, without traumatizing you, so I decided to take this one up.)

Doki Doki Literature Club is a mindfuck and a half. I'm honestly not sure I want to give you spoilers, but suffice to say, that Monika very much hits high on the "Yandere" scale.

And, once you realize WHY, it's hard to hate her for it. Or maybe I'm just sympathetic...? Irregardless, either play the game, or watch a let's play, if you want to see why. But... just be warned that it's a mindfuck and a half, and the game only starts out as a seemingly normal visual novel. The warnings for people playing it are for a damned good reason.

[Xamusel]

Okay, I'll consider it for the future, guys. I'm not sure I'd even appreciate the game as much as you'd prefer I would.

[RanmaBushiko]

Okay, I'll consider it for the future, guys. I'm not sure I'd even appreciate the game as much as you'd prefer I would.

I really wasn't saying that at all.

[Xamusel]

I really wasn't saying that at all.

...then what were you saying? I'm highly confused.