Meat Plant Underground
“I would like you to answer my question, Magus.”
A Great Hero, or you could say those words were from a transcendent "something."
"Your being my Master is a labor for me, no?"
In the basement of a meat plant, protected by multiple layers of bounded fields, an existence one couldn't describe manifested. The summoner, Bazdirotto Cordileon indifferently replied, "That's not for me to me decide, but for you, right?"
As for Bazdirotto's suit wearing magi subordinates, they were covered in a cold sweat while their magic circuits shivered.
It was obvious, even from a glance, that the manifested existence was "something" much greater than themselves.
In the first place, that physique surpassed even the greatest human. It was an appearance that seemed like the statues people carved of gods. He just exceeded two and a half meters and the hair on his head just touched the ceiling. A big, muscular man with each muscle fiber, each vein was overflowing with
od
internal magical energy
- a godly aura. Just from the flesh alone, one didn't even need to think about some half-hearted magecraft; even so-called high thaumaturgy that took several people was trivial, so the magi believed.
The permeating ambiance dominated the basement's atmosphere, and with just a few seconds in his presence, the audience felt the sheer divinity of this existence.
If this Heroic Spirit were to rage in reckless abandon, we wouldn't be able to do anything. Whatever this Heroic Spirit does, we would be unable to do anything but accept it as correct.
Having such a flawless and honorable figure appear before them, a delusion started to grip Buzzcola's subordinates. He was a heroic spirit who could slaughter every single person in this room with his bare hands – in a few seconds – if he wanted to. Yet, the flesh and magical energy which gave off this pressure contrasted his gentlemanly and calm behavior as he stood in the middle of the workshop.
This ran contrary to how the magi, other than Buzzcola, felt this Heroic Spirit was nonstandard. Their brains kept screaming at them to run away from this place.
This was not a good place for a mob magus.
Right now they were laying their eyes of an existence they definitely should not lay their eyes on.
However, no one moved an inch from their place.
The thing that kept them from moving in fear was an even greater fear.
Buzzcola was here, escaping first was not an option.
This was the only reason keeping them here.
[----------------------]
[----------------------]
Buzzcola and the Heroic Spirit exchanged a few words the men could not hear.
An existence that far surpassed humans and their own leader were talking.
The moment they started to barely catch the conversation, the Heroic Spirit’s expression darkened. Even with a clearly displeased Heroic Spirit in front of him Buzzcola, their superior, expressionlessly began to pose a question.
"What's wrong? Answer the question?"
"..."
"I would like to hear that 'if it's for winning the war, I'll even involve infants.'"
"I can't do that. If the person commanding me to do that were here, that person would be my enemy."
Cutting-off his current expression, a graver sound echoed from the hero's mouth.
"Are you... testing me?"
Along with those words, an unseen pressure created a wind that ran through the underground basement.
It was a pure pressure unlike that of magical energy. If an ordinary person were to squarely bask in this pressure they may no choice but to relinquish their lives. That was the grave presence which stole the movement from the magis' limbs.
“If you speak as such while knowing my origins...then I'll decide the life you wagered with those words.”
With that pressure fired along with those words, all the magi who happened to be present heard the death sentence and were prepared to die along with Buzzcola by mere association. Even if the thought of hating their boss didn't come to mind, there was a certain amount of resigned fear. But, their boss, before a room destroying pressure, without moving an eyebrow, had an unworldly glint in his eye as he rebutted, "Naturally, my life is something I've already thrown away, long ago."
Then, holding his left hand aloft with the helmet pattern glowing.
"With this command spell I order you-"
"...Frivolous."
Seeing his Master decide to use a Command spell with the intention of imposing obedience, the Heroic Spirit shook his head.
A restraint placed with a Command Spell is nothing more than temporary. With his magical energy, he understands he’ll have no trouble shaking it off. Even if all three strokes were used to command him to commit suicide, killing himself three times is out of the question.
However even if he knew his Master's use of this Command Spell to restrain him was useless, he did not do anything to hinder his Master.
The summoned Heroic Spirit was too virtuous.
If he was a Heroic Spirit who would use any means in the face of danger, the Master's head would go flying off before he even finished invoking the Command Spell. Or perhaps, if the Heroic Spirit was a Rider or an Assassin it may have done what the Master asked without hesitation. However, this time, because he was summoned as one of the three knight, the side of the hero which was transmitted through epics as "the flawless hero" was strong in him. Because of this, he carried within him something similar to a certain kind of chivalry.
This is what gave birth to a fatal chink in the great hero who surpassed human intellect.
The order that was spat out didn't contain anything to do with swearing obedience.
"Reopen your old wounds"
"Ahh"
At the same time Buzzcola's Command Spell glowed, the hero raised his voice. --This thick magical energy started to erode the hero's brain.
No way...
Even including the past holy grail wars, the hero's magical energy value was top class. The situation might be different if it was witches from the age of gods, but a modern magus' mental interference shouldn't even elict a response.
However, passing through the Command Spell, the Magus in front of him had "something" that was violently beginning to jolt his brain. The hero recalled a similar undermining experience.
A being superior to himself had drilled an abysmal curse into him.
The man in front of him fired something with the same nature right at him.
"You...what..."
"There's no need to hide your sins and regrets. Spill all your guts. I want to see your everything."
Still expressionless, Buzzcola cast words of temptation that resounded to the depths of hell at the hero.
"I don't need your power as a hero. For my purpose, I require an avarice that allows you to take part in every and any single avenue. Even if you have previously walked a noble path to reach a place, you will not hesitate to select unscrupulous methods. The resolute delusion of a solitary human."
Whispering this to the no longer moving Heroic Spirit, Buzzcola once again hoisted his left arm.
"I order you once more with a Command Spell --- recall 'all those "humans," you saw.'"
Those words had some special meaning to them.
Or perhaps a curse-like intention behind them.
The hero's earlobe quivered at the order. The Command Spell transformed into a lump of magical energy and soaked the depths of his brain.
His vision flickered, in between those flickers, the faces of various humans he met while alive started to float up.
Among them were those with the blood of distant gods; however, those that came before him were all never more than "only human."
The very picture of a cowardly tyrant, bawling while there was no strength in his legs.
---“I’ve got it! Give praise! You, praise the king’s name more!”
---“T-Therefore, approach your better, monster!”
The characteristically haughty and arrogant blond man said,
---"I see. So you are ___________"
---"How magnificent, how envious! You are truly the monster you are rumored to be!"
---"Please be rest assured. I am determined to use you quite hospitably."
---"I... Only in my company shall you not be a monster."
---"Great Hero, protect the future king."
The woman he loved, her words just before committing suicide.
---"You... did nothing wrong."
---"So, somehow, don't resent this world."
--- "Don't hate your own blood."
---"You're strong... so you can definitely do it."
---"I... couldn't do it."
Just before twisting off a male enemy soldier’s head and throwing it into the fire, the solider's response was this,
---"Fathe..."
They were not in chronological order, but over and over again, people's figures were stacked on top of each other as they vanished. As for how they were acting in concert, that must have been due to the unique amount of magical energy poured in from the Command Spell.
---No way.
---Humans of this era don't possess that much magical energy!
---If it's that much, that's like the witches... from my era.
The rare great hero quietly falls to his knees.
Before that unbelievable scene, Buzzcola's subordinate magi were bewildered.
An existence on a whole different level, was suffering in front of the magus we call our boss.
The relationship of a Master and Servant.
Those simple words described everything. After watching that scene, anyone would understand. However, they also clearly understood the definite compensation forfeited.
Regarding the Holy Grail War, you could call the Command Spells each and every Master's lifeline. Suppressing and coercing the Servant with an order, teleportation and emergency evacuation - limited to Servants, it's a trump card that allows deeds close to True Magic and two out of three uses have already been exhausted.
The remaining Command Spell is considered as something that must be left to deal with a Servant's rebellious spirit. Therefore, in this Holy Grail War, Buzzcola's usable Command Spells may as well be none.
With such a decisive handicap one would feel uneasy, and yet, with Buzzcola, there was no mistaking there was something else. Fear and some kind of trust stabilized the magi.
However, that stability collapsed just a few seconds later.
"Once again, I order you with a Command Spell-"
With these words, the all the magi in the underground basement froze.
All three command spells were completely used up at the time of summoning.
Those who knew about the Holy Grail War knew their boss just committed a folly only children would have a hand in making. At that moment, the magi knew they were going to die.
On the other hand, the summoned Heroic Spirit, prepared himself for the incoming corroding magical energy.
---This magus... was dangerous.
He did not perceive that Buzzcola using his last command spell as a folly.
Without revealing his expression, this magus held up his life.
With his entire being onto the scales, the Heroic Spirit finally understood that Buzzcola was trying to alter him into something different.
What would the final Command Spell's order be? This man alone must be eliminated. As for the Heroic Spirit, the question of this corroding power's true form was beating him up.
However, a worse case could be that this erosion could spread to the other Heroic Spirits summoned in this Holy Grail War. While the "curse from when he was alive," raged inside of him and was frantically wrestling for control, the great hero was still pure.
---I must stop them.
---There are evil tyrants rampant in this era.
If he was a normal Servant, he would have gone mad long ago amidst this amount of mental pollution. Even so, this great hero did not protect himself: for the Heroic Spirits he had not even met yet, and for the sake of the people who lived in this era, he extended his hand.
It didn't matter if it was unscrupulous.
It didn't matter if he was called a mad spirit who took care of his Master. The man called the hero of heroes would even throw away his honor; once again, for the sake of someone he couldn't even see, he was determined to obliterate the magus in front of him.
Then, shaking off all the mental pollution, the very instant the magus' head was within reach--
As if sneering at the hero's nobility, Buzzcola used the final Command Spell.
"Accept your
human essence
terrestrial clothing
."
Other than Buzzcola, all the people inside the workshop all saw "that." With all the Command Spells spent, they saw Buzzcola's left wrist.
From the cuff, a dark red tattoo that was not a Command Spell peeped out. Like an unsavory living creature started the squirm.
ｘｘｘ
In The Middle Of Some Poor Lighting
"So then, please excuse me. It will be no good if I am unable to prep the summoning."
"Hmm, that's fine. I want to thoroughly see Art's summoning all on my own," said Francesca while her feet clattered about as she used the sofa as a bed.
Seeing her like way, Faldeus warned her one last time, "Francesca, I get that you can slip through any fighting. However, for an amateur magus like myself, they’d definitely bursting with anxiety."
Faldeus momentarily narrowed his eyes and continued to let his hostility to Buzzcola be known.
“Honestly, is giving that man ‘that,’ really okay?”
“You really that discontent? Other than myself, it’s impossible to get enough magical energy to use the Heroic Spirit that catalyst summons at his full specs.”
“I’m not talking about the catalyst. I’m talking about the ‘byproduct,’ you brought from Fuyuki.”
"There's no helping it. Being able to handle 'that,' while also maintaining a sense of self. There's no one else who can do that other than my Baz."
ｘｘｘ
Meat Plant
It was an extraordinary scene.
The magical energy of the Command Spells and the flowing dark red "something," was eating away at the Heroic Spirit's body.
Firing magical energy in some kind of resistance, over half of the bounded fields that protected the workshop had been blown off. Facing the impossible to process magical energy, several of the magi started convulsing until they fell to the ground.
Exposing himself to the torrent of magical energy, Buzzcola, with a sharp glint in his eyes, kept glaring at the Heroic Spirit "It's okay to praise, admire, even love the things
they deny. Do so to your heart’s content…"
The left hand pointed towards the Heroic Spirit did not only contain the power of a Command Spell, Buzzcola also fired his own accumulated magical energy. Using a Oriential hex considered heresy to the Clocktower, the dark red "something," stretched from his arm and drove itself into the Heroic Spirit.
The wall of Magic Resistance attacked the hex. From there, the shadow-like, wriggling, dark red "something," started to directly erode the Heroic Spirit. Even without taking that into account, the amount of magical energy that Buzzcola's body fired was normally unimaginable. The Heroic Spirit considered that it may be some sort of trick, but had no chance to expose it.
Being covered in something which made him feel like his entire body was being torn apart reminded him of the poison which caused his death. Even if he expected a different pain, his instinct drew out the recollection of that poison's pain. His instinct was screaming that the power that was flowing into him was just as dangerous as the poison had been.
While continuing to endure pain beyond words, the Heroic Spirit was trying to contain an "impulse" that was frantically arising from both inside and out.
But, the next moment Buzzcola sent in the "mud." The Heroic Spirit understood from his past life that what he was being entangled with was a "curse." On his knees, the Heroic Spirit screamed, shaking the very air itself.
“---------------------------------------------------------------“
As if in response to the howl, his body started to dramatically change.
Having his entire body wrapped up in that dark red mud, the Heroic Spirit's thick sturdy muscles were scrapped off, his very skeleton was contracting, and he had shrunk fifty centimeters. The mud-ish thing that covered his body changed into a dye that colored the hero's skin dark red. Then, the mud beside the heart that intertwined with something else changed into a white dye. A radiation pattern was etched there - it looked like a scar from gouging out his heart. At this time, the hero's screams suddenly stopped. He breathed in and just stood up. Buzzcola lifted his left hand and asked this Heroic Spirit a question.
"Without going into too much detail, how do you feel? Henceforth, this mud shall become the replacement for your power."
"..."
In response to the silence Heroic Spirit who turned towards him, Buzzcola asked disinterestedly, "The path has already bound us.... but I want to hear it from you."
While his body had shrunk, the heroic spirit was still a head taller than Buzzcola, yet Buzzcola still scowled at him.
"I ask you, are you my Servant?"
After a short silence, the Heroic Spirit replied, "All right..."
He unfurled some cloth and put it on – from his shoulder to over his head, covering his face.
"For the sake of exacting my revenge... I will use you. And if you no longer have any value, your head.... I'll twist it off.
No sooner than taking up such a strange appearance, it seemed as though insanity would take over the Heroic Spirit; however, unlikely intelligible words, dangerous words came from this mouth.
Even to that, Buzzcola expressionlessly asked, "Why do you hide your face?"
"...Punishment. Never again will I lay eyes on the 'works of man.'"
"...Ahhh, I see. That cloth, it's the skin of 'that.' Then, if it doesn't hinder you, I have no issue with that."
"Very good. Anyway, I don't plan to show this face off to the world. At least until I use the power of the grail to exterminate my posthumous name."
Getting rid of one's "name" with the power of the Holy Grail.
Acknowledging the Heroic Spirit who said such a strange thing with a hmm, Buzzcola formed an L under his chin with his thumb and forefinger and said, "Then, what should your true name be? Without changing too much, how about Alternative, 'Alter?'"
The Heroic Spirit gave a tiny shake of his head, and spoke his own True Name.
Completely different from the one he had when he was summoned, and yet this name was his starting point.
"My name is -"
Originally Posted by You
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