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

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and TYPE-MOON, along with whomever they’ve happened to license them to, such as Geneon, Funimation, A-1 Pictures and Netflix.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.








Battleship Wolfen
Outside Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004








It had taken a bit of fast talking to get Fiore out of doing everything short of bringing him chicken soup; she had fluffed his pillow, rearranged his blanket, and given him the sort of concerned expressions that really shouldn’t look as adorable on a teenager as they did . . .

(Honestly—he might have the body and associated hormones of a guy in his mid-twenties, but he was still mentally two decades older than his erstwhile fiancée. He already felt more like a dirty old man than he was comfortable with; looks like that made it so much worse.)

Regardless, he had her relatively calm now, and was “officially” caught up on events—which had led to several moments of considering things, and a potential solution to at least one of the problems of this Grail War.

“I need to make a phone call,” Frid announced. “Could you hand me the cell phone in my jacket, please?”

After all, he hated disappointing a lady—which Fiore most certainly was—and he hated breaking promises even more . . .








London Café
July 4, 2004








Lord El-Melloi II, otherwise (but not commonly, any longer) known as “Waver Velvet,” sighed as he brought the cup of tea to his lips.

While he would readily admit that he enjoyed teaching—and had, perhaps, a soft spot for certain members of this class in particular (something he would go to his grave without admitting)—it was undeniable that they were . . . Taxing, to deal with. Indeed, he would quietly challenge any other instructor to put up with that particular group without resorting to cursing them.

As such, Lord El-Melloi II deeply appreciated the quiet and solitude this tearoom offered—not only did his students not bother him here (the few who were aware of the place), but it was isolated enough that most of Clock Tower avoided it; free Wi-Fi, for example, didn’t interest them. And so it was here the reluctant (and seemingly-cursed-to-be-perpetually-in-debt) Lord of the Clock Tower could do his paperwork, indulge in hobbies, and otherwise relax, in peace and qu—

“Professor?” the server interrupted his musing. “You have a call, sir. Long-distance, the operator said, I think—the accent made it hard to understand.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lord El-Melloi II bit back a sigh—and then stopped, surprised at himself. It appeared that Reines’ etiquette lessons were taking; no Lord of the Clock Tower, after all, would lower himself to something so mundane as a sigh, and especially not from something as small as a phone call . . .

Of course, in his opinion, that would depend entirely on the identity of the caller, and the content and context of the call . . .

“Very well, ” he said at last. “I’ll take it here.”

He just knew that this was going to be a headache—and a half—to deal with . . .








"I need a favour from the El-Melloi faction," said the not-unfamiliar voice on the other end of the phone.

Lord El-Melloi had been entirely correct about the headache; calls from freelancers were rarely good, and this one had never asked for a favour before—it was one of the reasons he liked dealing with him . . . Along with, of course, his willingness to support Waver’s gaming habit—either by playing alongside him, or doing a shopping run in Akihabara. Sometimes for free, even! That, or he’d find an extra tidbit in his packages, like getting the “special, limited-edition” version of something when he’d asked for the standard run—or another game that “looked like you might find it interesting, so I figured, ‘what the hell . . . ?’”

Lord El-Melloi supposed that, even if the younger spellcaster had never intended to cash in on that extra goodwill (and all his skill at reading people—not to mention his sister’s—had indicated that the kid honestly hadn’t) it was inevitable that karma would make the magus pay for it, eventually . . .

And it appeared that the bill had now come due.

“. . . Hang on, then,” Lord El-Melloi II said, suppressing a sigh. “I'll need to get Reines."

Case in point: he now had to leave his comfortable sanctuary away from the Clock Tower to beg an audience—and worse, likely favours—from his sister . . .








Much to Lord El-Melloi II’s relief, it didn’t take a great deal of coaxing or cajoling to induce Reines to meet with him, after all. Granted, when he arrived at his office, she’d seized his chair and his desk, but when the alternative was inviting her to his tearoom sanctum, he could live with the annoyance. And once he’d explained why he’d called her here, she looked intrigued—which meant he might not have to owe her much for the meeting, after all.

Nor was it hard for Waver to guess why that might be: despite having been the greatest proponent in his defence, his sister had never actually met Úa Súilleabháin, his trial having been conducted in absentia. And that, she had done so primarily to bury the Nuadi-Ri family—as well as head off any future attempts Úa Súilleabháin might make to claim that a favour was owed as a result of his actions.

(A politically sound reasoning, Lord El-Melloi II knew, but an utter waste of thought in this case. The Yggdmillennia heiress had been first, foremost, and dare he say solely on the boy’s mind in this instance—any other considerations were discarded as irrelevant, assuming they’d even been thought of in the first place.)

Regardless, Reines’ curiosity was understandable, he supposed; that the other magus was asking for a favour only made it more enticing. After all, competent subordinates were always something that should be sought out—and when they could serve as deniable, disposable assets, all the more so—which the boy had proven to be. Certainly, while Waver was in no doubt of Úa Súilleabháin’s destruction of the Nuadi-Ri family, he’d cleaned his tracks well enough to make it virtually impossible to prove . . .

". . . All right, we're both here," Reines said to the phone, an eager glint belying her otherwise-composed expression and tone. "Now, what would so compel you as to humble yourself before a Lord of the Clock Tower, young magus? You're not particularly known for your reverence . . ."

"I want your protection for a magus of the Yggdmillennia faction,” was the answer. “Specifically, a young man named Caules Forvedge."

A delicate eyebrow rose in response, and Reines all-but-purred, "My, you do have a soft spot for that family, don't you . . .?"

(Waver imagined that the boy could hear the sadistic smile that he could see on his sister's face. He was certainly hoping so, at any rate—why should he be the only one with to wind up with nightmares as a result of this conversation?)

"Given the present circumstances, however,” Reines continued, in a not quite regretful tone, “it would be simply impolitic—to say nothing of impractical—for the El-Melloi to—"

"Thirty-five million U.S. dollars, Waver," came the deadpan response, and Lord El-Melloi II choked.

He did his best to avoid visibly trembling—while the not the balance by a long chalk that would offset a significant amount of his debt—and Reines merely smiled viciously.

"My, my—dipping into the fabled Nuadi-Ri fortune?” she said, in an airy tone. “You must be desperate, indeed?"

"Don't be ridiculous," came the immediate response, in a tone that was audibly insulted. "I never stole so much as a euro from them—anything stolen might have been capable of being reclaimed, after all."

Waver considered the response with an inner amusement. It wasn't an admittance, after all; he was apparently aware enough not to leave them with anything that might be recorded as blackmail material, even in, as Reines acknowledged, a state of desperation.

Unaware of his thoughts, Godafrid continued, "Professional code-breaking pays better than most people would think—and my tastes are generally relatively inexpensive, all things considered . . . Besides, there's a good chance I won't be in a state to need the money, at the end of this, anyways."

Waver nodded to himself in agreement. The man was practical, at leas—

He stopped, and looked at Reines' expression. Her eyes had gone calculating; in truth, they almost always were, but she'd taken it up a notch. Her face was largely expressionless—the mask that any magus, far less a Lord-in-waiting, perfected for social interaction . . .

But her breathing had hitched, and that expressionless face was, to his surprise and bewilderment, flushed.

"You really did destroy it all, didn't you . . .?" she whispered.

"It was a tragic accident," Godafrid declared flatly, echoing the official report. "But if I'd been given my druthers in regards to the whole situation, however—yeah, I would have. And I'd have made him watch it happen before he died."

As Waver watched, Reines' complexion went from blotches of a light strawberry hue at her cheeks to a full-faced cherry red, and she, seemingly unconsciously, licked her lips.

"I must say, I do regret not meeting you in person," she said lightly. "You seem to be very much a magus after my own heart . . .”

Seemingly realising that she’d dropped into an almost predatory tone of voice, she paused abruptly, and then audibly dialled it back. “Well—I would say that such willingness to part with resources on that scale surely indicates the importance of the subject to you; and it would, admittedly, be a not-invaluable contribution to the El-Melloi coffers . . . In light of that, and my dear brother’s apparently high regard for you, I suppose such a request deserves due consideration . . .”

She steepled her fingers in thought, pressing them against one another in a flexing motion; Lord El-Melloi II believed that, if Reines had possessed a fan at the moment, she’d have tapped it against her chin, or another surface. Thankfully, that particular habit of the Edelfelt heiress hadn’t infected her own mannerisms.

“. . . Yes,” she said at last. “I believe we can afford to shelter a no-name magus, should we happen to find one—my brother is a reputable instructor, after all, and known for polishing jewels out of dross, if you’ll pardon the mixed metaphor. Can I trust that arrangements can be made promptly?”

“The money transfer can be made in minutes; with luck, I can have the boy on a plane within hours—where should I send him?”

“Mm,” Reines mused. “Japan, I think—it’s far enough out of the way that few people will look overly closely at any points beyond, and Lord El-Melloi II is known to travel there frequently . . .”

“Or at least, collect things from there,” the thought was completed. “In point of fact, I have an order waiting for pickup—he might as well take it.” By way of explanation, he added, “I managed to get my name added to an ‘early release’ list for the Nintendo DS—”

“WHAT?!” Waver exploded suddenly, exploded to his feet in shock as he glared at the phone. “HOW?! That isn’t due to be released until NOVEMBER—?”

“As I said, professional code-breaking is lucrative; it also has a lot more applications than you’d think . . .”

Lord El-Melloi II ground his teeth in frustration—he could hear the smug smirk on the lucky little bastard’s face—!

Reines giggled, and the sudden and unexpected sound (to say nothing of what it was—and, more importantly, who it was coming from) caused Waver’s blood to freeze.

“Oh, yes,” Reines said, back to purring sadistically, “I really think I’d like you . . . Please—if you should happen to survive, do feel free to drop by for tea . . ."

“It would be an honour and a pleasure, Lady. Thank you for your time—and now if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must be going. Good evening.”

The phone clicked gently.

Reines stared at it for a moment, then glanced up at him.

“You seem to be making the most interesting friends when I’m not looking, Brother . . .”

Lord El-Melloi II frowned internally, not understanding what was going on. He’d known Reines to flirt with him, solely to unnerve him—but never quite so playfully. She was usually rather blunt about it, in fact—and he’d never seen her do so to anyone else. Moreover, that last bit had almost sounded wistful . . .

His eyes widening in sudden and horrified realisation, Waver very briefly said two prayers.

The first one was to the effect that Godafrid's death in the Grail War would be immediate, along with swift, painless, and assured—or as close to all of the above as could be reasonably managed. It was the least that he supposed that he owed the younger man; they’d been almost friends, after all, for some time now.

The second prayer, on the other hand, was devoted entirely to himself, because he suddenly realised that one way or another, he was going to have to deal with a truly horrifying concept:

Reines El-Melloi Archisorte's first crush.








Battleship Wolfen
Outside Trifas, Romania
July 4, 2004








“All right,” Godafrid said. “Assuming that we can Caules onto a plane to Japan sometime in the next four to six hours, if anything goes wrong here, we can make sure he’s the hell away from ground zero. And the El-Melloi are willing to shelter him for the foreseeable future, which hopefully means that the Mages’ Association will back off and let him work—”

“For thirty-five million dollars?!” Fiore choked. “Godafrid, how much of your life’s savings is that?”

She’d never actually asked how much money he had, any more than he had of her; mostly because it was rude, and partly because it hadn’t mattered—but this was beyond the pale . . .!

“Most of it,” he admitted, his expression and tone entirely without shame. “If I survive, I’ll have enough left to last on while I build it back up—and if I don’t, then it’s not going to matter.”

Ruler tilted her head. “Laeticia seems to think that’s a lot of money, but she can’t quite quantify it for me . . .?”

“It works out to almost sixteen hundred pounds of gold,” Godafrid replied, “more or less.”

Fiore sucked in a breath quietly at hearing it put in those terms. Jeanne d’Arc, she expected, had little experience with sums of coinage (at least, in terms of precious metals) but Ruler could no doubt envision weights easily enough, and had some notion of the value of gold—

The truth of which was proven a heartbeat later, as she watched the Pseudo-Servant’s face blanch.

“That . . .” she began, before visibly composing herself. “. . . That is impressive.”

“I earned it,” Godafrid said with a shrug. “And a good chunk of it goes to charities, anyway—it really is more than I need.”

Ruler gave him a look, and then glanced at Fiore. “You are a remarkably lucky woman.”

Fiore’s cheeks went hot, again—but she didn’t deny it.

I just wish I didn’t blush quite so easily . . .

Any further thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Erik, Caules—and one of his robots, for some reason.

“Godafrid,” the Norse deity—which she still found hard to believe, but was coming to accept the possibility of—said evenly, “mind if I have a word?

“In private?” he finished ominously.









Writer's Notes: Well, that took a lot longer than I really wanted it to . . . Hope it was entertaining. In the meantime, RB's next chapter should be ready to be posted as soon as I finish proof-reading it - but first, I need a break from my laptop, and Last Encore is calling . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Our overworked boy appears again! And as per usual, he is busy and has a headache.

I never quite... get Reines. I watched El Melloi Case Files, though I haven't read the LN. I can tell that she does have those... predatory tendencies, so I'm getting Takara Nanaya flashbacks from this. Which admittedly probably isn't inaccurate. Danger, Will Robinson!

Jeanne's response is precious. "seems to think that's a lot of money"

We last saw Erik drifting off of the Hanging Gardens, I think? Unless he's been monitoring Frid's call/listening in with godly hearing, which is possible, the discussion is more likely to be around Shirou's faction. I'm not entirely sure what his motivation would be if it's a response to the phone call, unless he really could use that money instead.

[Kieran]

. . . And apparently, stopping to watch a movie trailer before shutting down has its advantages - I can note replies, and respond (relatively) quickly!

Detective Pikachu makes an appearance, of course. I haven't seen that yet.

I thought it was a nice popcorn-muncher - but then, I got out of the Pokémon anime (comparatively) early, and was mainly interested in watching Ryan Reynolds and Justice Smith play off one another. In essence, I got what I came for; I don't know how a more hard-core fan might react.

Our overworked boy appears again! And as per usual, he is busy and has a headache.

He wouldn't be Waver if he didn't.

I never quite... get Reines. I watched El Melloi Case Files, though I haven't read the LN.

Likewise, on all counts.

I can tell that she does have those... predatory tendencies, so I'm getting Takara Nanaya flashbacks from this. Which admittedly probably isn't inaccurate. Danger, Will Robinson!

Based on what I've read about her, she likes watching people make self-destructive choices; and the more of an idealist the person was to start with, the better. So, your earlier statement might be the best way to sum it up.

Fleeee

Jeanne's response is precious. "seems to think that's a lot of money"

*Shrugs* you'd expect a medieval peasant to understand modern global economics - especially since the Grail doesn't really regard the information as relevant to the War?

We last saw Erik drifting off of the Hanging Gardens, I think? Unless he's been monitoring Frid's call/listening in with godly hearing, which is possible, the discussion is more likely to be around Shirou's faction. I'm not entirely sure what his motivation would be if it's a response to the phone call, unless he really could use that money instead.

RB's next chapter will make it clear(er), promise - but first, I really do need that laptop break . . .

[RanmaBushiko]

Fleeee (why have you done this to our boy EMIYA)

Too many Pokemon have Swords dance. If it was just the Honedges, Doublades, Aegislash, Kartana, Sirfetch'd, and Zacian, plus whatever I'm forgetting, we'd be sort of okay (most of those are quite rare, so it would be more like the occasional horde of Honedges and rare pokemon bosses), but every Pokemon with sword-related moves makes it substantially more of a problem.

Detective Pikachu makes an appearance, of course. I haven't seen that yet. I have seen a substantial amount of "Oak wants to get with Ash's mom" from other sources as well. Oak's attitude is about what I expect from parody.

Because EMIYA's life is suffering, and just because he'll not be a Counter Guardian, doesn't mean that life won't have issues for him post-suffering? And really, he seriously needs to have the martyr complex beaten out of him until he's willing to try and live life for life's sake?

Glad you enjoyed Oak, though.

We last saw Erik drifting off of the Hanging Gardens, I think? Unless he's been monitoring Frid's call/listening in with godly hearing, which is possible, the discussion is more likely to be around Shirou's faction. I'm not entirely sure what his motivation would be if it's a response to the phone call, unless he really could use that money instead.

Yeah, you get to see that with this next chapter here. Speaking of which...





Chapter 47: When The Dust Settles




Metal Gear Rex MK3
Approaching Yggdmillennia Castle's Ruins
5:40 AM



"Erik. Are you sure that you did the right thing with everything said and done in there?" Mordred asks, studying Erik. The sun's still rising over Trifas, but she focuses on Erik over the sunrise.



"...Any thoughts on where I may have gone wrong? I might be nigh-omnipotent, but I'm not exactly at my best anymore." Erik admits, glancing back at Mordred studying him.



"Mentioning the guest rights, and most of the Masters of Red being on the Wolfen, to an Assassin?" Mordred asks, with her arms folded.



At that, Erik winces, and rubs his forehead with an open hand. "Okay, fair; damned good point, at that. The only thing keeping her from finding us was the cloak, and if that's penetrable... She might go for us next. Fuck. What was I even THINKING... Oh, right—charisma over manipulation. Fuck my life."



Mordred blinks, then suddenly grins. "And you figured out what I was hoping for you to realize, immediately! See? That's the God I'm enjoying worshipping!"



Erik chuckles, and then sighs. "We'll have to up the guard routines, then to defend against... J... I know it. I seriously know it. Jack the... Ripper. That was it. Whitish pink hair, short girl, black tattered clothes with a knife fetish. Why is it so hard to remember though, except for vague descriptions...?"



"Until you described her, I couldn't even remember THAT much." Mordred breathes out, rubbing her forehead. "Some sort of personal skill, I think. Does this thing have records of the fight?"



Erik calmly pulls up video footage of the fight, adjusting the screens so one shows it for both. Soon enough, it's apparent that Jack the Ripper doesn't appear on any footage. Mordred frowns, and Erik’s expression quickly matches hers.



"Well, crap—if this thing can't remember it, then my defenses for my Wolfen might not, either,” Erik admits, with a sigh. “Shit—let me call up my wife and the Scylla, make sure they get that bit of informatio—"
For a moment, Erik pauses and blinks, at seeing Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia and Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia walking down the road to him, talking.



"Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia. Why am I not surprised to see you out here, waiting?" Erik remarks over the speakers, as he glances over at Mordred, who studies things carefully.



"Your OTHER war machine, I suppose?" Darnic asks rhetorically, studying it carefully. His eyes widen fractionally at the sight of multiple missile launchers, as well as no visible damage on it.



"Yeah, pretty much. Assassin of Black fared poorly, though we nearly finished her off. Assassin of Red, however... I didn't expect her to flip her damned Hanging Gardens onto its side in order to kick us out of the throne room." Erik admits, with a scowl on his face.



"Berserker... How did she fare?" Caules asks, hesitantly. "She..." He trails off, quietly.



"Her Noble Phantasm had to have been at least the size of the throne room. We punched our way in, Mordred and I, on my War Beast, only to see her at her death. She asked us clearly to beat Assassin of Red; who, I might add, was admitted by Assassin of Black to be Semiramis, before she died. We cleanly countered the majority of her bullshit, if barely—and there's some serious issues going on with ONE of my systems as a result, so we're not exactly UNSCATHED as a result. But in the middle of it, she threw a temper tantrum after we managed to tank a second Noble Phantasm and her summoning two of those... ‘Bašmu?’ For the upper heads alone, to try and eat my War Beast here." Erik sighs, cracking open the cockpit, then studies them carefully.



Darnic frowns. "It's good to know you've weakened Assassin of Black. But for Assassin of Red to go to such measures ... It's concerning, at the least."



Erik cracks open the cockpit, then nods. "Yeah, it's concerning me as well. She was throwing around prana like water, and I'm not sure how or why she could do such a thing."



Darnic nods, his expression furtive while Caules simply looks down.



Erik pauses, grimacing. "Ah, one other issue: Assassin of Black seems to not be recordable by mechanical devices, and it's—difficult, to remember details about her. However, she identified herself as Jack... Hang on." Erik focuses, his eyes narrowing, before he nods. "Jack the Ripper. White hair, with a pinkish tint to her hair—small, young girl with a love for knives. She should only have one arm, but if Semiramis, Assassin of Red, heals her, we may have her assaulting my Wolfen soon."



With those words, Erik dials the Scylla, calmly. "I'm here Boss. What's up?"



"Scylla, have all units record all passengers on my Wolfen in their database, as well as all guests. Then order anyone with white hair, or whitish-pink hair to be shot on sight, immediately. Start monitoring for any intruder alerts, or false alarms. The Servant is Jack the Ripper, and she seems to be able to erase data from my War Beast."



"Roger that, Boss—any other tricks or orders?" The Scylla asks, while going to work.



Mordred speaks up, with a frown. "She's extremely hard to remember, so have them programmed to target anyone that isn't on the guest list, irregardless; and if any units suddenly go offline, to stand guard in all corridors, aiming down corridors while being prepared to fire."



"That's... Honestly a good idea, Sir Mordred. I'll get right on that for you and Boss right away. Now if there's nothing left..." The Scylla trails off, meaningfully.



"Nothing for now,” Erik confirmed. “Thank you for your help. I really should thank you more often." Erik admits, and settles back with a sigh before hanging up.



"Would you care for a ride, you two?" Erik asks, studying them both.



For a moment, Darnic's eyes narrow as he studies the massive war machine before him. Then he smiles. “Why, certainly—at least, I'll take advantage of it. What of you, Caules?”



Caules nods, softly, before Erik pushes down a lever, lowering the head before them. It’s a moment of stepping up, before they slowly take seats within.



“Fascinating marvel of engineering, I'll admit. Especially compared to the tanks the Germans made so many years ago...” Darnic muses, as he studies things carefully.



Caules looks down, studying it all. “I'll admit, it's definitely interesting—I just miss Berserker, to be honest.”



Erik nods, softly towards Caules. “We tried our best to avenge her, and defeat Semiramis. We just didn't anticipate that fight going the way it did.”



“Not much of your missiles were used, it seems...” Darnic muses.



“I've got reloads and a couple of Legion of Coal units just for that, in the back.” Erik shoots back, with a bit of a grin. “Hard to use them all, though, considering how big the main area was, and how fast she went from 'talking to us politely' to trying to skewer us with chains and trip my War Beast over.”



Darnic blinks as he studies things intently. “That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. And the damaged system...?”



Erik points at the Radiant Wave Surger, pointedly. “Before, that had an infinity symbol on both sides. Now it's saying 1/3 instead. Signs point to shit being fucked up from that alone, to be honest with you. I'd have to take off all the armor to have a look at the runes carved deep within, and figure things out inch by inch. Unfortunately, that's likely time we don't have right now, considering how much shit I have to do, and equipment I have to salvage from the earlier fight alone. Add in the Reactor issues I still have, some technology nearly being finished... it adds up.”
Erik trails off, and then rubs his forehead with one hand. “And with how devastating that attack was on both our forces, I don’t like our chances if we don't work together and keep the truce.”



Darnic studies it, carefully, and then frowns, folding his arms, before replying, “A worrying issue, to be sure. What do you think their next target is going to be?”



Thinking it over, Erik muses aloud, “To be honest? Likely they're going to try for my Wolfen next, somehow. Tactically, it's the right thing to do, even if I hate to admit it. It's two Assassins, they have the Greater Grail, but they don't have the Servant count to make a wish off the thing yet.”



Darnic's eyes widen in surprise at Erik's words, before he settles back to think over that. Meanwhile, Caules watches the monitors, studying them.



“It's a lot more sophisticated than I thought, in here.” Caules finally admits. “I'm not sure what sort of computer system you're using, but it's impressive, if almost insane in scope and ability...”



Erik glances over at him, nodding. “Yeah—it's my favorite, for good reason: durability, power, strength, and good for dealing with irritating fuckers who like to jump or dash around.”



Mordred snickers a bit at Erik's words, before nodding. “The look on that was on Assassin of Black's fa—wait. Shit. I can't remember what they looked like, already.”



“Pinkish-white hair, young girl... Jack... the Ripper. Uses knives.” For a moment, Erik winces, and rubs his forehead. “Hard as hell to remember, too—I think memories of her are erased slowly over time, as well as possibly data.”



Darnic studies Erik, intently. “Start reinforcing your... ‘Wolfen,’ wasn't it? Get your people on board, then. We'll work things out for the castle. Actually, if you could leave those machines, we could use them to rebuild, like you said.”



Erik looks over, and then nods. “I will, but first, I want to see if the Heart of Winter's still underneath the castle, or if it's gone completely. I'd rather be safe than sorry.”



Darnic sighs softly. “That’s fair, I suppose—irritating, but fair.”



Erik muses. “Also, Fiore Yggdmillennia may wish to stay on board. It's where her fiancé is, right now. And she may be interested in the medical equipment that should be finished with testing in a few hours.”



Darnic thinks, his arms folded around his cane. “Fair, I suppose. Could you ensure the Legion of Coal units don't bother us, and having...Things to ensure they don't spy on us or the like? ‘Programs’ or whatever those newfangled things are called?”



Erik glances over, as does Caules. Darnic doesn't hesitate to explain why, however. “Allowing you to see my fortress is one thing. Allowing you to see our Mysteries for our Magecraft is another. Perhaps the others will offer a trade of such things, but I would rather not.”



At that, Erik nods. “Fair enough, I suppose.”



Darnic settles in his chair, leaning forwards so his hands holding his cane also cover his lips. And if he has a smile on his face for the rest of the trip to Yggdmillennia Castle's ruins, no one seems to notice it.









6:00 AM
The Ruins of Yggdmillennia Castle






When they finally halt, Erik opens up the hatch, then smoothly pulls his sunglasses out, looking over things. At the same time, Darnic frowns.



“The Prana has changed... Perhaps even the leylines have changed, somewhat; there's far more Prana in the air than before, and it feels—cold.” Darnic narrows his eyes. “That thing was far more dangerous than I accounted for, it seems, if it can change leylines to this degree.”



Erik nods. “Yeah—that’s exactly the problem. Most Greater Titans on the scale of Ymir were massively-sized monstrosities, to the extent that had planets within their body. Ymir's death, according to Aesir records, was the reason why the Great Flood happened according to human history. A good chunk of the icecaps suddenly melting away as the laws of nature adjusted to Frost being conceptually diminished, if not quite eliminated, resulted in nearly every civilization having memories of a flood that covered the land.”



Caules jerks, turning to stare at Erik with wide eyes, even as Darnic goes rather still.
“That's completely, utterly terrifying. You know that, right?” Darnic admits, after a few moments.



“It's why the Gods didn't dare kill another one of the damned things, and had to settle for imprisoning them,” Erik admits. “And why defeating Surtr was such a big thing for me and my friends, before...” Erik trails off with a sigh. “Suffice it to say that he wasn't immune to a liquid nitrogen bath, or liquid nitrogen bombs.”



Caules snickers softly. “I can imagine that was one rough fight.”



Erik nods, while his eyes study patterns of Legend within the ruins of Yggdmillennia Castle. “It was. We were smart enough and lucky enough to have stolen the bastard's sword before the fight proper—otherwise, I think it would have gone far differently.”



Erik narrows his eyes, focusing harder. “I don't see any sources of Legend, but the damned thing looks like it blew up all its Legend to coat every inch of the leylines under your castle's remains. I think it's dealt with, but I have no clue how that's going to affect prana manipulation, or if it has infected the leylines somehow.”



Darnic thinks. “Can I use that?”



Erik glances over, one eyebrow raised, before he offers up the sunglasses. “Keep in mind, this kind of thing wasn't meant for mortals to use. It’s not exactly a STRONG artifact, but if it blows your eyeballs up, don't blame me.”



Caules blinks, repeatedly at what Erik just said, while Darnic hesitantly takes them. His eyes narrow, before he pulls them on.



Then he stares, wide-eyed, as the view changes for him. The massive war machine he sits in glows almost a reddish-blue, echoes of heat from its forging flowing through it. Mordred also glows in his eyes, almost like blood, echoes of her hatred and anger radiating from her—while Vlad, astralized, glows more of a reddish brown, echoes of his slaughter of so many at the stake.



But when he looks at his castle's ruins, all he sees is an ocean of icy-blue prana. Desperately, he removes the sunglasses, shaking. “It was like staring at a brand new sun—if I didn't fully believe you before, about your warnings? I do now. That was... Far beyond what a Servant could achieve, easily.”



Erik sighs, taking his sunglasses back, as Caules stares at Darnic in open disbelief. “Thus why I assaulted your castle the way I did—if you were safeguarding something like that for decades, would YOU not right your hardest to get it back as soon as possible?”



“That's—” Darnic sighs abruptly. “Honestly perfectly fair.”



Everyone pauses, as a phone rings on board. Erik sighs, answering it as he mutters. “It never rains, it just pours--hello?”



“Dear? I hate to interrupt while you're checking things out,” Tamamo states, a hint of worry in her tone, “but one of the Legion of Coal units that fell during the battle just got back up and started rushing towards your location!”
“Any replies from it?” Erik asks, adjusting things within Metal Gear Rex MK3 and pulling up the radar. He narrows his eyes, studying the fast-paced movement.



“None—it's not acting normal at all,” Tamamo sighs. “It could be damage, but it's still odd.”



Erik muses. “What exactly destroyed it?”



Tamamo pauses, the sounds of a mouse clicking, before she speaks up again. “... Apparently, it got hit by lightning coming from the Hanging Gardens right before Berserker of Black died.”



As the Legion of Coal unit rapidly approaches, Erik adjusts the massive war machine. But as his eyes glance up, he pauses, glancing at Mordred.



“Now, that's an interesting thing we've got coming up.”



In the distance, the Legion of Coal shouts. “UUUU!”



Mordred blinks. “You know? Somehow this is interesting, and slightly feels like it should be familiar somehow...”



Then the Legion of Coal unit leaps, going impossibly far for the design, and lands before the war machine that towers over it.



Erik slowly brings the head down, to look at the Legion of Coal unit. Then he looks back at Darnic and Caules.



“UUU! Master! Fran has new body! Not flesh like old body, though! Make new bond with Fran, so Fran won't disappear?” The Legion of Coal unit shouts, somehow.



Erik slowly grins. Then he turns towards Caules. “Your summoned waifu is now a robot.”



Caules look at Fran, then at Erik. Then at Fran again, before he silently passes out.






The Wolfen

News Room 1




“And that's the end of tonight's show, folks! With that, I'll be returning to my duties and helping my Husband. I hope you all enjoyed the fighting, and enjoyed how things turned out!”
Tamamo smiles at the camera, then as the “recording” light goes off for the cameras, she sighs.



“So, tactically, we're not doing nearly as well as I'd hoped, are we Scylla?”
The Scylla, somehow looking at her instead of the camera, seems to nod to her—again, somehow.
“We're holding up okay,” it replied. “We've lost a good chunk of the assembled mecha, and we're tapping pretty deep into our stores. On the plus side, we've finally managed to find the Mecha Museum that Erik originally built. It got shunted to the very bottom of the Wolfen, from everything else above it getting squashed and flattened like a pancake as the domain was destroyed.”



At that, Tamamo frowns as she nods. “Fair enough—thanks for finding it. Now, I need to deal with some things, before meeting Amaterasu about some stuff she wishes to teach me.”



“Yeah, no problem—I'll be getting things fixed up for the Boss, anyways.” At that, several Legion of Coal units pick the Scylla up then carry it off.



As Tamamo leaves the room, she adjusts her clothing as she walks. Aloud, she murmurs. “I know I should check on Godafrid, look over the cloning equipment, and all that, but first...”



She turns, moving into a small Japanese Shrine, locking the door behind her. There, she sighs, before sitting and praying to a piece of metal, and a model of the train.



Moments later, the train's model animates, its spotlight turning to stare at her.



“Weak now.” Ksssht. “Very weak. Damage catastrophic. Why” Ksssht. “Did Creator hurt me?”



Tamamo bows her head, further. “My husband, if he could have, would not have hurt you. Do you remember the excited feet, happily riding you when you first were tested?”



Ksssht. “I remember. They loved me. Creator loved me. So why?” The train's spirit voice is weak, damaged. But even still, it studies her, wanting to know why its creator damaged it.



“Most of them...” Tamamo pauses, looking down. “Most of them died. We had to move to a new universe entirely. And in this one... His divinity is in peril. Our followers are in peril. And we...” She trails off, wiping tears from her face. “We face a foe we may lose our home to—our Wolfen, too, that you were built to ferry people around within.”



Ksssht. “That is sad to hear. All those happy feet... and Creator...” Ksssht. “Creator is in danger?”



Tamamo nods. “He might die, if we can't secure what that foe has stolen. You were the only way to get to that floating fortress in time. And your sacrifice damaged it, and one of the pieces that it used to hurt so many of the Mecha Forces you liked to study as you moved them around.”



Ksssht. “Then my sacrifice was not in vain...?” Ksssht. The train's voice weakens. “I helped...” Ksssht. “Helped my creator? Helped my fa-father?”



Tamamo hugs the spirit, as it nearly dissipates. “You helped him. You helped him very much. And if we could have spared you this pain... we would have. If there was any way to save you from this, we would have kept you from suffering like this. I truly... truly am sorry...”



Ksssht. “Do not cry Mo-Mother.” The train flickers. Ksssht. “I... will truly miss...” Another flicker, as power flows through it, forcing the train to continue to exist as it resists its destruction with a force of effort. “Miss giving you and father trips. But at least... this was a go-good death, to help save Fa-Father and everyone else.” Ksssht. “Please. Tell Fa-Father that I lo-loved him, and you... mo-mother. Even just...” Ksssht. “Just as a tr-train. You two lo-loved me, so very... very... m-m-mu-muc-much.”



With those words, the Kami of the train fades away, as Semiramis finishes destroying the rest of the train.



Tamamo simply bows her head, and cries over the model of the train, feeling the loss of one of the Kami that she'd grown to enjoy the company of.



Amaterasu's arms reach around her, hugging her close to her, as she materializes behind Tamamo, giving her daughter from another universe a hug.



“Mo-mother? You...” Tamamo's voice shakes.



“I saw, dear. And it's okay to cry. Just let it all out.” Amaterasu hugs Tamamo softly, rocking Tamamo in her arms, as Tamamo goes from crying to outright sobbing.



6:30 AM

The Wolfen

Near Trifas




Erik sighs, adjusting himself as he leaves his War Beast, then stretches. Caules slowly pulls himself out, too, Fran following him, slightly unsteady in her new body.



“The Scylla's got the movie theater up and running for you, Mordred. I think you'll like Nolan's stuff to watch.” Erik nods at her, as Mordred perks up, and then takes off. “Thanks Erik!” she calls, as she rushes off.



For a moment, Erik smiles, as Caules studies the Wolfen with wide eyes. His eyes trace over various weapon emplacements that he can see, before turning towards Erik. “Did you MEAN to make it look like a Starcraft Battlecruiser? Because that looks like a Starcraft Battlecruiser to me.”



Erik laughs. “Happy accident, to be honest—and though I do like the design, it's pretty bulky.”



Caules nods, his wide eyes studying over the massive machine. “It's a thing of beauty, I'll admit. As you mentioned to us before, though, it must be a pain to get fuel for.”



“To be fair, before this, I could literally create more fuel, minerals and materials for it out of thin air. Me being weakened to keep Gaia from sending me to the Far Side of the World means I can't use that ability right now, and considering the clusterfuck we barely escaped from, I'd rather not have a trip there anytime soon.”



Caules winces, before nodding. “A fair point, I suppose.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “So, why bring me here exactly?”



Erik glances over, while the Legion of Coal moves to work on checking over Metal Gear Rex MK3. “Your sister's here, for one. I thought you might want to have a phone to call her whenever you wish. Second, I've got some good cybernetic systems for your Servant, so she's more than just a metal skeleton. Third, you're going to need some charging systems for her to recharge her batteries with. Couple other things I suspect you'll want to talk with me about, but that can wait for when we're more in private.”



Caules nods, thinking. “It'll be nice to hug my sister, and explain what happened, at the least. Thank you, for that. More than that, thank you for letting Berserker keep her new body, rather than...” He trails off, quietly.



“It's fine. Though I get free dibs on teasing you about her being your waifu. Deal?” Erik grins, before Caules laughs. “Fair enough.”



After a while, Caules sits at a table in the dining room, before Erik glances over. “Care to eat, I suppose? We'll need to get some food soon, I'm rather low on supplies; but I've still got some eggs and bacon, and being a Master is exhausting work.”



Caules blinks before nodding. “Sure, thank you. That will be wonderful.”



Erik moves into the kitchen, calmly cooking some food for them both, while humming. Soon enough, two omelettes are served, cheese liberally spread over them, with bacon on the side, while Erik sits across from Caules.



“If you need me to eat first, to prove there's no poison, I can.”
Caules shakes his head to Erik's words. “No, I'm sure you haven't done anything like that. You're too damned nice, for one.”



Erik laughs. “To be fair, I'm charismatic more than nice, most of the time. But I try to be kind, even if my paranoia doesn't always help.”
Caules perks up at that, blinking. “How does your divinity affect you, anyways? It's not exactly like we ever got a crash course on that, with you all supposedly being gone, after all.”



For a moment, Erik leans back, thinking. “We exist on the hopes and dreams of our followers, our blood changed to be something else, the more our abilities grow. Once we hit a certain point, our bodies can be turned immaterial, converted to Legend and faith made solid... at the cost of our abilities to interact with Mankind directly. Being much like Herakles, it means that it's rather—rougher, for those of us who were born of God and Mankind, than most. But as for how our stations affect me?”



Caules studies Erik carefully, as he thinks. “At first, I was a shoe-in to be the next God of Hunting. I was raised by a hunter of a mother, as I told you before. Then, I found my cousin dead, my father's spear looking to have killed him. That left me scared that my father was planning on killing myself, next—which left me constantly wary, watching over my shoulder, working out how he might be spying on me... And as a result of me doing that as a mortal, then as a Demigod...” Erik trails off.



“You can't stop. No, it's more that it's ingrained into your very being, now, isn't it?” Caules whispers, studying Erik.



Erik nods. “Exactly—just like Magecraft training ingrains certain abilities within your body, so too does my Divinity shape myself, as well as belief from others. As a relatively new God, I can ignore a lot of people thinking I should act a certain way, and I was lucky enough to have followers that saw me the way I am, rather than twisting my words and actions to make me fit the mold that most Norse Gods fit in. As know-nothing jocks that prefer to die in a fight, than live and see their plans unfold, for nearly all of them.”



Caules thinks. “That must be horrible. Knowing that anyone that prays to you could influence how you act?”



Erik simply nods. “Yeah, I think you get the issues for us. It's not all fun, skipping through meadows as mortals pray to us. Things can get pretty brutal for most of us, and that didn't even account for pantheons fighting over followers...”



Caules winces softly, as he finishes eating. “What did you want to talk about, involving myself and Berserker, here?”



“I'll be honest,” Erik admits. “I could leave you with her in that base model... But it's likely to drive her slowly crazy considering she's mentally more than simply a machine—more of a cyborg, really.”
Caules folds his arms, studying Erik closely. “And?”



“As she's digital right now, an electric current possessing that unit, it makes for an interesting possibility of a trade. I'm willing to make her body fully functional, or as close to functional as possible, if you're willing to talk with her about getting me a copy of her combat data and fighting abilities, as well as a copy of her blueprints.”
“How... functional are we talking about?” Caules asks, studying Erik.



“She'll never be able to get pregnant,” Erik admits. “But I can make her easily be able to have sex and enjoy every moment of it, with the advances myself and my wife have made.” He smirks. “And I know she cares about you, as well. It would let her be more comfortable around you, with a mostly flesh-and-blood body built around a metal skeleton...”



“Berserker...?” Caules asks, turning towards her. “What do you think about this?”



Frankenstein pauses, blinking. “Uuuu. Fran likes Master.”



Caules slowly goes red. “And what do you think about this deal?”



She pauses, studying Caules and Erik intently. “Would this let Fran hug Master?”



Erik nods. “Much more than just hug to be honest...”



“Fran agrees!” She says with an attempt at a smile.



Erik pauses, thinking, as he pulls up a grocery list, then winces. “Okay, then—that's going to take up the next couple of hours, after which I'm going to need to see another Servant about some work I've been putting off. Do you think I could convince you to go on a grocery run for me and my wife, if I gave you some cash, and sent a Servant or two with for helping with the lifting?”



Caules blinks, repeatedly. “Yeah, I think I wouldn't mind, especially after you've fed me. Who would you like to send with?”



A tired, half-exhausted-looking Rin slowly walks in. “I smell food. I'm hungry, I'm tired, I need tea, or coffee—and then I think I'm going to sleep after I'm done eating.”



Erik glances over, as well as Caules. Then, Erik chuckles. “Her Servant will do, I suppose for the grocery run. I'll get my wife to cook-”



“She took off with your Servant somewhere.” Rin interrupts.



“Okay. Then I'll be a good host and cook, before getting to your Servant's issues with possessing one of my Legion of Coal units, while you get food for the rest of the people on board so we have more than breakfast ready for the day.” Erik sighs.



“Archer!” Rin barks. “Go help him shop.”



“But I could be cooki-” EMIYA is interrupted by Rin. “NOW!”



“Fine, fine—what an irritating Master I have.” EMIYA mutters.



“DO I NEED TO USE A COMMAND SPELL RIGHT NOW?!” Rin barks.



EMIYA flinches. “I'm good, I'm good. I'll be going!”



“After you're back, I'd like to talk with you about some stuff Archer, and look over Kaleido-Ruby while I'm at it.”
Rin blinks, before EMIYA and Rin have large happy smiles on their faces.



“Not a problem!” They both say, almost in sync.



“Now, what do you want that involves eggs, bacon, or both?” Erik asks Rin.



“Eh? I suppose scrambled eggs and bacon would be tasty...” Rin admits.






9:00 AM



Erik sighs, glancing at Frankenstein's Monster. “Fran? Test out your joints. Everything settling well?”



“Uuu! You helped make it easier to think, too!” She smiles and nods.



Erik just nods, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Glad to hear it. Okay, go ahead and go be with your Master after you get dressed, okay?”



Erik sighs, and settles back as the former Berserker leaves the room, skipping all the way. “Anything of note I need to know, Scylla?”



“Hang on Boss. Do me a favor—pull your sunglasses on, and then look towards Godafrid's room.”



Erik turns, focusing, and then blinks. “Well, isn't that interesting...?”



“I thought you'd enjoy being the first to know, Boss!” Over the radio, the Scylla sounds smug.



“Wasn't Galen a fan of Fate/Extra, too—Nero, specifically?” Erik pauses, grinning.



“Yeah. And don't we have her sword?” For a moment, Erik and the Scylla just pause together. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Scylla?”



“Well, we do have the meteorite left to make something that could mess with him, while being a Relic...” The Scylla trails off, meaningfully.



“And EMIYA's abilities could truly come in handy for what I'm thinking of...” Erik grins.



A knock on the door, leaves Erik getting up to get it, before his smile grows bigger. “Well. Just the man I was thinking of. Do come in, EMIYA. Would you like to prank Godafrid with a gift, by any chance?”



EMIYA pauses, then chuckles. “I suppose I could work something out with you.”



“It'll be a couple hours, but I think we should be done by 11 AM or so with everything involved. First, Ruby, and then the prank.” Erik grins.









Author's Notes:
So! As a surprise, you get...! SURPRISE FEELS.



A little backstory for this. In Scion 1.0, all of Tamamo's former pantheon could talk with the spirits of weapons, equipment, buildings, and the like. In Tamamo's case, as a Shrine Maiden, when she switched Pantheons, it didn't leave her losing the ability to talk with Kami like it normally would have. She very much kept her abilities, up to where she was before she left the Pantheon.



More than that, she was a genuine Shrine Maiden, unlike Tamamo No Mae, the Servant, who only dresses as one. So she had the same drawbacks, and thoughts about things that any Japanese Shrine Maiden would have.



Including irritating drawbacks like “Not being willing to wear animal fur.” which lead most of the party to have issues with finding equipment she COULD wear.



Especially since Erik was the craftsman for the party.



This leads to a scenario where, Tamamo isn't just wanting to be a mother to Erik's children, she's also a mother to all the Kami of Erik's major creations.

[Arbitrarity]

Why are you making me cry about a train. Trains are not meant to be something I cry about. Suplexing an intelligent train that loves you just seems exceptionally cruel.

Fran being able to accidentally possess a mechanical body hit by Blasted Tree actually makes a surprising amount of sense, metaphysically/metaphorically. I do feel like Erik's degree of... explicitness with Caules feels a bit off, because a large part of Fran's personality is that she's kind of child-like, which makes the entire thing feel a bit icky, though I suppose he's planning for the long term (since he likely won't be around to assist forever). I would have been fine with "she won't be able to get pregnant, but that's about it".

Expected developments with the Heart. That's definitely going to bite us in the ass somehow. Messing with the leylines near the Grail probably means it's somehow transferred itself INTO the leylines, if not the Grail itself (the leyline impact could be a side effect, for all we know)

Uh oh, how do we combine Nero's sword and Ruby for a prank. The obvious guess is summon Nero and transform her into Bride or Summer mode with Ruby, but that shouldn't be possible, given where we are in the War. Though Summer Nero is a Caster, and Red doesn't have a Caster right now, due to all the weird classes in play... or you forge Ruby into the sword somehow, so he thinks it's the sword, but Ruby transforms him or something? Throwing a Kaleidostick on Godafrid seems like a very scary idea, given that you might get one of Galen/Krampus, Kieran Holt, or OG author. Merging knowledge from Krampus might be useful, though. Getting Kieran Holt might not even be overkill... he was absurdly overpowered for FFX, but the power level here is cranked up a bit higher.

[RanmaBushiko]

Why are you making me cry about a train. Trains are not meant to be something I cry about. Suplexing an intelligent train that loves you just seems exceptionally cruel.

I'll fully admit, that scene was hard for me to write. At the same time, on the ship? The only one that knows it, and realizes what's going on with the train and everything else is Tamamo alone. Erik never realized that his creations all love him. Which honestly makes it worse...

Fran being able to accidentally possess a mechanical body hit by Blasted Tree actually makes a surprising amount of sense, metaphysically/metaphorically. I do feel like Erik's degree of... explicitness with Caules feels a bit off, because a large part of Fran's personality is that she's kind of child-like, which makes the entire thing feel a bit icky, though I suppose he's planning for the long term (since he likely won't be around to assist forever). I would have been fine with "she won't be able to get pregnant, but that's about it".

Very much long term in Erik's plans. He's not sure if he'll be able to get to working on her again in a scope of years, after all, with all the shit he's going to have to do involving getting the Wolf Home back close to Earth. Add in everything going on with his divinity and he's twitchy.

Expected developments with the Heart. That's definitely going to bite us in the ass somehow. Messing with the leylines near the Grail probably means it's somehow transferred itself INTO the leylines, if not the Grail itself (the leyline impact could be a side effect, for all we know)

You'll see some interesting stuff as a result. At the same time, spoilers for anything else I'll admit. *chuckles*

Uh oh, how do we combine Nero's sword and Ruby for a prank. The obvious guess is summon Nero and transform her into Bride or Summer mode with Ruby, but that shouldn't be possible, given where we are in the War. Though Summer Nero is a Caster, and Red doesn't have a Caster right now, due to all the weird classes in play... or you forge Ruby into the sword somehow, so he thinks it's the sword, but Ruby transforms him or something? Throwing a Kaleidostick on Godafrid seems like a very scary idea, given that you might get one of Galen/Krampus, Kieran Holt, or OG author. Merging knowledge from Krampus might be useful, though. Getting Kieran Holt might not even be overkill... he was absurdly overpowered for FFX, but the power level here is cranked up a bit higher.

Ruby, Erik needs to put a mute button in, and fix some things up for. *chuckles* As for Nero's sword... you'll see soon enough. After all, a God needs to have a weapon of some sort, don't they?

Mwahahahaha.

[Xamusel]

I wonder... will Godafrid become someone he shouldn't be in this universe sooner or later? It seems to be the most logical solution to what Ruby mixed with Nero's sword would result in.

[Kieran]

Why are you making me cry about a train. Trains are not meant to be something I cry about. Suplexing an intelligent train that loves you just seems exceptionally cruel.

Agreed.

Fran being able to accidentally possess a mechanical body hit by Blasted Tree actually makes a surprising amount of sense, metaphysically/metaphorically.

It's no stupider than her somehow possessing Sieg - () and I feel that it's quite a bit more realistic, actually.

Uh oh, how do we combine Nero's sword and Ruby for a prank. The obvious guess is summon Nero and transform her into Bride or Summer mode with Ruby, but that shouldn't be possible, given where we are in the War. Though Summer Nero is a Caster, and Red doesn't have a Caster right now, due to all the weird classes in play... or you forge Ruby into the sword somehow, so he thinks it's the sword, but Ruby transforms him or something?

He's explained it to me at least twice now, and I'm still not sure I get it, so it'll be interesting to see for all of us, I think.

Throwing a Kaleidostick on Godafrid seems like a very scary idea, given that you might get one of Galen/Krampus, Kieran Holt, or OG author. Merging knowledge from Krampus might be useful, though.

True, but the other stuff wouldn't necessarily be so helpful . . .

Getting Kieran Holt might not even be overkill... he was absurdly overpowered for FFX, but the power level here is cranked up a bit higher.

True - and if the Seldarine readjusted him to be a bit more "by the book," it might be even less overwhelming.

I wonder... will Godafrid become someone he shouldn't be in this universe sooner or later? It seems to be the most logical solution to what Ruby mixed with Nero's sword would result in.

Possibly, I suppose . . . Did you have anyone specific in mind . . .?

[Xamusel]

Hmm... Galen Salvatore, is that you, coming to have tea with Ilya in this universe?

[Kieran]

I don't see that as likely - although now that I'm thinking about it, the possibility of a Galen, at his wits' end, stumbling through a Door and hiring the Works to cure Hermione's vampirism would be a possibility, wouldn't it . . .?

[Xamusel]

...well. I see that as a possibility, too.

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 48: Preparations for the Storm to Come




6:30 AM

Remains of Yggdmillennia Castle.




Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia sits, quietly. He does so not his office, once so well fashioned, with every small detail perfect. Neither is he in one of the many magnificent rooms, guarded with magecraft. Instead, it's a small shed on the property that he sits in, one easily-overlooked—which is, of course, the point.



"I've warded this space against people spying on it, for everything I can—Vlad, can you check my work?" Darnic asks, finally, after verifying that everything seemed to be properly done.



"It looks fine to me, though I am no expert at matters of magic. Roche, on the other hand..." Vlad glances at the boy, who immediately begins studying the runic arrays carefully.



". . . I don't see any issues, sir. Shall we begin the meeting, then?" Roche asks, quietly.



Gordes wipes the sweat off his face, calmly. "I'll agree. Let's hear what the plan is."



With a snap, the four of them feel the small set of wards go up.



"Erik offered Caules and I a ride on his... ‘War Beast,’ I believe he called it—though one of the screens called it Metal Gear Rex MK3,” Darnic admits, his arms folded. “While on it, I managed to put a spell upon it that would let us spy on it and its immediate surroundings."
Gordes perks up. "So we have a spy system within his base of operations, then? Good job, sir." Roche smiles. "Can we see it, then?"



Darnic nods. "It will be somewhat taxing, but—"
"I'll help, then!" Roche interrupts with a smile. "Please, let me help. It'll let me do something more than just build like Sensei taught me to do..."



At that, Darnic nods, then focuses. "Put your prana in the spell that I'm making then, Roche."



With a focus of effort from them both, a misty ball showing the Wolfen and things within appears to the room. Slowly, Darnic and Vlad go still at the sight of the hangar.



"You can see weld marks on most of them," Gordes remarks. "It looks like he wasn't lying. He's really not had them prepared, but that there were—there are so many..." Gordes trails off, trying to say things, and failing to do so.



Roche, on the other hand, simply gapes. "So many of those robots... Lord Darnic... Can we really win against that? We have your Servant, we have Gordes, and Miss Fiore's... But there's so many..."



Vlad, on the other hand, analyzes constantly, saying nothing, as the massive war machine is moved to an elevator, then moved down from the main hangar level. Floor by floor, it goes down, showing layer after layer of hangars, with Legion of Coal units assembling mecha in each one.



"That's just..." Roche trails off at the sight. Gordes has gone silent and terribly still. Vlad, on the other hand, is frowning.



"It looks to be over a thousand of those big war machines left. And by my count, he has at least twenty times that number of those walking metal men." Vlad thinks, studying things carefully.



"TWENTY THOUSAND?!" Gordes almost screams, as he stares in horror at the visuals. "The sheer number... Do you think we could set them against that damned floating fortress and hope they wipe each other out?"



Roche slowly shakes his head. "Not if they have that many, I don't think. I... He's obligated to give us back the Greater Grail, but with those numbers... He could just take it from us, couldn't he?"



Darnic breathes out, slowly, his gaze growing sharper, as something in his mind finally clicks.
“Now, let me see if my acting skills are as good as they used to be...”
He thinks before he addresses what's left of his faction, arrayed before him, gravely, "Indeed. If any of you have suggestions on what to do to deal with such a thing, I'd like to hear them. I can only think of one thing that could grant us victory, and my Servant will likely kill me if I actually talk about it."



Gordes and Roche pause, while Vlad continues counting, before sitting back. "Thirty thousand or so of those walking metal men, at a guess—perhaps forty, if something that big needs truly as many as he's hinted at. And considering what he hinted at about fixing up the reactors, I suspect it's the latter."



"Sir... May I ask what...?" Roche looks at Darnic, quietly.



"If I consider that, Vlad will likely kill me—but irregardless... Gordes, Roche. I have a sanctuary prepared out in the mountains, in case this castle was destroyed. Can you get the Homunculi there, if nothing else?"



"I can do it... Gordes has his son, doesn't he? He should go be with his son." Roche speaks up, quietly.



"Darnic." Vlad looks at the image, then at his Master.



"You know it as well as I do, my Lord: there is no way we can beat them as we are. Both sides..." Darnic studies his Servant.



"And if we cannot reclaim the Grail from Erik and the rest of the Red Faction..." Vlad folds his arms, sighing. "If we can't, then what's to say he'll keep his promise? We didn't insist on a Geas Oath like he offered. It's worth the paper it's signed on—in this case, nothing."



Silence reigns in the shed they're talking in, for a long while. Eventually, Darnic dismisses the image from the magecraft, standing up and leaning against a wall as he thinks. "I don't have a miracle cure for this. I don't know how to go further, not without breaking my trust with you and promise to you, Lord Vlad. The only thing I can think of would make me the most hated man for my faction. I would be reviled and hated..."



Darnic sighs, studying the aforementioned faction.
"Gordes, Roche,” he addresses them, “if you wish to leave my faction and join Erik's, you may do so. I won't blame you, either of you."



Gordes pauses, thinking. "I won't abandon what we've fought so hard to create, Darnic. If you want me to try and spy on them, however, ask and I'll do my best."



"I won't either!" Roche almost shouts—before bringing his voice to a more level tone, as he continues. "He killed Sensei! Even if he may not have been fully in the wrong to do it, he still killed him! I won't forgive him!"



Darnic quietly nods, closing his eyes. "Thank you for that. Gordes. Go get your son to the safe house. I'd... Well, I’d rather you not have to see what Vlad is likely to do to me for even bringing up the possibility."



Gordes sighs softly. "Where is it at?"



Darnic rapidly draws a map in the dirt on the floor, and then studies Vlad as Roche and Gordes move to leave. Then, he pauses at them turning around to study him.
“Lord Darnic...” Gordes starts, before sighing. “Why are you acting so differently? This is the competency you used to have, more than the competency you've been showing as of late.”



Darnic gives him an appraising look, then nods before answering, “Most of the time, it feels like I can barely think. You recall that I don't speak of my magecraft for staying young? There are major side effects—ones that I would rather you not suffer from, or have to worry about.” Darnic breathes out, his gaze still sharp. “Ones that have made it feel more and more like I'm a prisoner in my own mind; less and less like myself, and more every day like my own body is someone else's. Someone who has my thoughts, my memories—my skills and magecraft, even! But is not, nor ever can be, me.”



“Sir...” Roche trails off, before frowning, then moving over to hug Darnic, silently. “I'm sorry, sir. I wish I could help you out more after you've helped me so much.”



Darnic stills, blinking at Roche for a moment, then smiles softly and pats the boy's head. “Thank you for that. It means more than you know, Roche.” Darnic pauses, gathering his thoughts as his people study him. “I can't say how long this will last, my thoughts being sharp like this. But this is the first time in years... No, let's not lie; it’s been decades since I've thought this clearly, felt this much like me—and I don't wish to waste it. Go, be safe. Write your knowledge you learned from your Sensei, after helping Gordes with the safe house.”



Roche nods, as he leaves with Gordes, before Darnic sighs, leaning against his cane.



"You've accepted your likely death. Yet you're livelier now than in all the while I've known you. Why?" Vlad the Impaler asks Darnic, folding his arms.



"...A price of my magecraft makes it harder for me to be myself; to live past my natural life span while remaining this strong, and young-looking? That requires sacrifice. Sacrifice, that in turn, adjusts my very soul—and with it, how I think. Think of it like torpor, or a long-term depression mixed with amnesia, slowly growing; slowly destroying your identity, leaving your will but nothing of memories. Eventually, only your skills and will remain, yet you have nothing to fight for—nothing to live for.
“You will be a machine: operating by rote, with no concept of its purpose," Darnic admits, pacing the room. "I've fought so long, and so hard, yet I can barely remember what I fought for. Or why I fought for it, and sacrificed so very much for it—yet here and now, in this crisis?"
The magus turns towards his Servant, looking him dead in the eye.



"In this crisis, I am myself again. I remember why I fought, once more. Here and now, at least, I can be the man I should be. And if I should die this moment, at least I will have died myself, not as a shadow, but as the man I truly am!" Darnic shouts, his voice hoarse.



Vlad closes his eyes, thinking. Pacing the room in his own turn, as he thinks over everything his Master has said.
After a long time, he sighs and looks up at Darnic. "Well said, my Master. You've made a good point. ‘To have died myself, not as a shadow, but as the man I truly am?’ Well said. Very well, then—let's hear your plan."



Darnic starts, tongue-tied in shock, as his Servant did the one thing he truly did not expect; much to Vlad's amusement.



"Well? We don't have much time before those Hanging Gardens return, and Erik's forces grow greater by the minute." Vlad studies his Master, his arms folded.



"Very well then,” Darnic acknowledged. “We have the population of Trifas. It's roughly three miles in size, and houses sixty thousand people—sixty-one, if I have time to call in all our outside agents..." Darnic sighs, softly. "If... IF we could convert even a small number of them, using Legend of Dracula, to boost our people's numbers..."



"Darnic,” the former voivode warned. “That Noble Phantasm makes me insane, like a Berserker; it's the same as a complete class shift. I'd not be able to target only certain people with that." Vlad states, point blank. "I don't easily recognize friend from foe, and you'd likely be my first victim."



Darnic thinks, his eyes narrowing as he works things out in his mind slowly. “There could be ways around that—if I used a Command Spell, perhaps, to boost your intelligence while in it?”



“That may help a bit,” Lancer admitted. “But it would likely be a temporary thing, Darnic—and the smarter I would remain, the shorter its duration, most probably. And once sanity finally fled me, nothing would remain of me.”
He sits with a flourish of finality, wearing a brooding expression.
“What if I helped you, then?” Darnic asks, quietly. “If I gave up my body, bolstered your mind with my own?”



Vlad looks up, studying Darnic with wide eyes. “You would give up so much, then?” His eyes meet Darnic's, gazing deeply, before Vlad slowly smiles. “The same eyes I saw when I looked in the mirror. Those same resolute eyes, to do everything I could for my people...”



“I would. My family has protected these lands for a thousand years, my Lord. My ancestors lived in these lands when you controlled Romania as a whole, even! I wish to save my people, my magecraft, and my Yggdmillennia Faction, in that order, no matter what the price is for myself. “ Darnic admits. ”If it means my death, so be it—but with the Greater Grail gone, everything I have done is for nothing. The betrayals I've had to make to claim it in the first place. The losses of those I loved, all my family, everything would be for nothing. I cannot accept that. If that means destroying my reputation to ensure Yggdmillennia as a whole survives under my successor's watch? So be it.”



“Then let us discuss ideas for ways to keep myself sane for this—sane, functional, and able to win.” Vlad admits, sitting across from Darnic.



9:00 AM



“I think I have it,” Darnic proclaims. “If I use a Command Spell to order you to control how deeply you transform using the Legend of Dracula, use another to influence how smart and rational you are while using it, then use the final one to ensure that I act as a second voice in your mind, ensuring you can think straight even when in the depths...” He thinks for a moment, then offers, “Would that work, my Lord?”



For a while, Vlad is silent, his eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, he admits, “It's as good as we're going to get, I suppose. Then shall we prepare? Unless you have any other ideas...”



Darnic thinks, pacing. “I think we've covered practically everythi—” Darnic pauses, almost hesitant. “Actually, no—Erik spoke of a ‘Castlevania,’ didn't he? I do believe Roche and Caules played that for a while along with Godafrid, and while Godafrid and Caules may not have suggestions, Roche would.”



“Where are you going with this, Darnic?” Vlad muses, sitting himself down to study Darnic in the eye.



“In the future, Erik said, the game series would be shifted away from Dracula's legend. But... How does the game series affect the legend now...?” Darnic muses. “And if it does affect it somehow, could we somehow use that?”



Vlad pauses, blinking—then he smiles softly. “Well done, my contractor! I hadn't even thought about that. Call that one, Roche. See what he has to say about the portrayal of myself in this … ‘Castlevania.’”



It's a mere moments, before Darnic gets through on the cell phone Roche had left him.



“Roche?” Darnic asks.



“Yes, Sir? I'm surprised you managed to call, sir.” Roche’s tone is tinged with curiosity, and a poorly-suppressed amusement. “I've just about finished writing down what Sensei taught me. Is there anything wrong?”



“You played those ‘Castlevania’ games, correct? Did Dracula seem... Sane, shall we say, in most of them?” Darnic asks, calmly. “And yes, it took a bit to ensure I called you properly. These phones are not exactly easy to use for someone untrained in them like I am.”



“Castlevania...?” the boy repeats, now audibly bewildered.Nevertheless, he answers obediently, almost without thinking, “Yes, Dracula is indeed more sane in them than in other portrayals of the chara—you wouldn't be thinking of...?!” Roche stops talking, realization obviously having struck, and when he speaks again, sounds ill. “Sir. My Lord. Is there no other way?”



“...If there is another way, I have yet to find it. But the safest way is to ensure he's as sane as possible in that state.” Darnic admits.



“You would be hated—reviled, even! And yet you would do that for the Greater Grail?!” Roche almost screams over the phone. “I can't help but point out that even if you do raise an army of the Dead, there would be no guarantee that you would win, my lord!”



“To win? Likely not—but to guarantee you all have a future without me in it? To take all the blame upon myself, to ensure that if my faction falls, you all live?” Darnic sighs softly. “That, I can do, if nothing else. I don't know if this will work, much less win—but it's the highest chance left...”



“…I see. I'd say that I wish you luck, but you're...” Roche trails off, sounding like he's in tears. “You're not coming back no matter what, huh?”



“No. I likely am not. If nothing else, thank you, Roche. You remind me of my own child, in the days I can think more like I used to.” With those words, Darnic hangs up, before walking outside the shed, waving to a Legion of Coal unit as he does so.



“Do you have any changes to the design?” it asks with a mechanical voice, admitting without pausing, “We've got the stone mostly quarried out, it's just a matter of building it in a castle design of your choosing.”
“I do indeed. Could you replicate Castlevania from the Castlevania games?” Darnic asks calmly.



“’Castlevania?’ Searching . . .” For a moment, the Legion of Coal unit pauses. “That is... possibly doable. These units will need a lot more timber for it to ensure certain towers don't fall over from the weight. Our lasers aren't exactly good for that. Too many forest fires are caused by the heat they put out.”



Darnic nods. “Then we'll use the Golems to help you in gathering the timber. And another thing, would it be possible to buy a collection of the laser rifles you use, or your creator makes? He mentioned they were for sale...”



“That's going to be expensive for you. Are you sure you want them?” The Legion of Coal unit studies him, as Darnic thinks.
“Perhaps if there can be offers of a bulk deal,” the magus admitted. “Say, twenty-five thousand? Or anti-air turrets being built based on their design, like Gatling guns made with the rifles?”



“What could you offer in return?” The unit asks, its processors thinking.



“Most likely extra fuel, delivered to another location, and other trade goods. Erik mentioned he's low on food? I should have some storehouses full of food, and other materials including fuel, in safe houses spread over Romania. Perhaps some of those would do?” Darnic smiles, charisma oozing from him.



The unit furiously thinks, as it slowly begins to heat up, processors overheating and fans whining from the strain of its processor, before it finally nods. “As long as verification can be made of equipment, fuel, and the like, before acceptance is made?”



Darnic nods, his smile growing. “Oh, but of course! I wouldn't want to cheat him, after all! Not when he's promised to get me back my Greater Grail.”



The unit simply nods. “We'll begin immediately, then. We'll also get you the equipment once we can verify the supplies, and status of supplies—it should take a couple of hours, at best, before construction and the new laser rifles arrive.”



“Excellent. Please do tell me when the trade is done, then.” Darnic smiles, then leaves, his eyes narrowing as he thinks. “Two steps out of three are done, Darnic. Now, to continue acting the greatest, and final, role of your life...”



After that, he settles down. “What do you think, my Lord? When do you think they'll turn that damned floating fortress around?”



“I'd say a few more hours, minimum. And since they finished grabbing the Greater Grail at approximately 6 this morning, leaving 3 hours ago, we've got at least 3 hours leeway before they return.” Vlad admits, folding his arms while watching his Master.



“Then I'll start preparing our operatives over Romania. We'll be able to use them for corralling the minimum number of people for the fighting to come.” Darnic muses.



“Like a peasant army as a draft? I suppose that works.” Vlad nods.



“It means we might get lucky, and have them show up tonight,” Darnic smiles at that. “Nevertheless, that gives us plenty of time to finish upgrading the castle, my Lord.”



“How long will it be before your operatives arrive, Darnic?” Vlad asks, folding his arms while thinking. “At a conservative estimate, say?”



“Perhaps 2 PM, my Lord. It should give us enough time, especially since Assassin of Red and Black both had hard fighting. They have to rest sometime after all.” Darnic muses. “I'll have them start gathering the populace, both to set up a standing militia, and evacuate the rest of the city for those that won't fight for us approximately 3 PM, if you don't mind.”



Vlad's eyes narrow, before he nods imperiously. “A wise decision.”



As Darnic resumes phone calls, his Servant at his back, a wide grin crosses his face. “Evacuate straight into the jaws of my new form, I should say...”



Outside the shed, the Legion of Coal unit they talked with adjusts itself, its mechanical body now seeming like any other unit, as the Scylla's mind withdraws from the unit. “Castlevania, huh?” It mutters to itself. “That should prove to be interesting as a design point. I don't think whatever his plan is will work, but it's interesting...”



10 AM

The Wolfen

Main Bridge




“Dear Sapphire—”



“Yes, Mistress? Oh, right. Your diary. Sorry!”



“That's okay, Sapphire!” Olga smiles at the Kaleidostick, then continues.



“I noticed Miss Tamamo wasn't cooking today, so I'm going to go out shopping with Mash and Fou, in a bit, to get something tasty for her as a treat!”



At the main helm, Nestor tries to keep from laughing, a wide grin on his face.



“I also noticed that everyone else could use some tasty food, so as the Heiress of the Animusphere family, I think I'll treat everyone to something tasty, too! Doesn't that sound good? Maybe Omelets like Daddy serves me every Friday, or some of that tasty French food, or Italian food... Mmm...“




Both Nestor and Mash now are trying to restrain laughter in the room. Fou, on the other hand is going “Foukuku!” adorably with little doggy laughs.




“Huh. Mash is giggling. Am I saying my internal monologue as I'm writing again...? Aargh. That's such a bad habit to break.”



Nestor walks over, and then pats Olga's head. “You're an adorable one—and yes, you are saying what you write, little one. You're wanting to head down to the city and pick up some food, then?”



Olga looks up at Nestor, and then nods. “Yes, I do! It's nice to fish with you, but I want to pick something tasty up for everyone!”



Nestor nods back, smiling. “Such a nice girl you are. And your favorite is omelets, you say? I'll have Miss Tamamo get you some tasty ones for breakfast tomorrow, how's that sound?”



“Really?!” Olga squeals, a wide smile on her face. “Thank you, Mister Nestor! You really are nice!”



The old grizzled captain sits, smiling. “I try, little Olga. I try. And, if you'd like, I might let you try steering the ship tomorrow as well!”



Olga's smile widens. “That would be wonderful! Thank you!” Then she bolts forwards, and gives him a hug.



“Why, thank you little Olga. You mind if I send some Legion of Coal units with, just to ensure you stay safe? They'll help you carry your packages back.” Nestor says, with a grin. “I'd volunteer myself, but these old bones can't carry packages for cute little ladies like yourself as well as I used to!”



Olga giggles. “That would be wonderful! And you're not that old!”



Nestor laughs. “I was old when I first met Erik. Now I'm even older! But I love being a captain, and being a captain for a ship like this? It's heaven for me.”



Olga smiles. “You seem young to me, though!”



“Aww, thank you, little Olga. You go off right ahead now, and start getting ready for a trip to Trifas, hmm?” Nestor smiles, and watches Olga nod.



As she leaves, he can hear her talking as she writes.



“Did you hear that, Sapphire? I'm going to get to go shopping! It's going to be fun, too!” Olga says, as she leaves the room, writing as she walks.



Nestor smiles at Mash, before Mash follows her Master, Fou trailing along.



“Ahh, to be young again—I might be immortal now, due to Miss Tamamo, but I still envy the young for their youth,” Nestor chuckles, adjusts his hat, then settles back in his chair, watching the deck like the Scylla warned him to do. “White hair, short girl with a knife fetish, huh? If I were a few years younger...” Nestor barks a laugh, then continues watching, the old captain's eyes vigilant for any issues with radar, or any people in the distance.






The Wolfen

Wayland Smith's Modified Tool Box Room




EMIYA, for once, doesn't have a sarcastic smirk on his face. Or a look of irritation, either. Instead, it's a wide smile as he casually hits Ruby's mute button on and off.
Repeatedly.



“Stop—” Mute
Ruby wiggles her wings repeatedly, trying to speak, and fails.
Un-mute
“Doing—” Mute
Ruby wiggles her wings again, trying to smack the mute button to un-mute herself, to no avail.
Un-mute
“That! PLEASE!”



Erik chuckles softly. “Enough, already—I need to verify things before you mess with her more.”



EMIYA nods, stepping back. “Why ask me for this?”



“Aside from letting you see the insides and how to reach them, in case you need to deal with one in the future? Considering Zelretch, and how scary he can be even for me?” Erik admits.



EMIYA pauses. “And it's just his style to troll anyone involved with his students, too—fair point.”



“Aside from that,” Erik continues, “for one, your Structural Analysis is bullshit. I'd like to honestly see if we can't work it into my sunglasses for analyzing things in the future, somehow, and I'd freely pay you for that work with equipment, or something else. And for another: Unlimited Blade Works, your ‘Reality Marble’; can you give me any notes on it, or how you're doing it? And finally... “ He grins slyly as he finishes, “There’s the prank for Godafrid.”



EMIYA blinks, studying Erik carefully, before Erik passes over his sunglasses. “Try them on. A mortal mage would have issues, but...”



“I'm not exactly mortal, am I?” EMIYA remarks, almost grumpily, before pulling them on.
As he does so, his eyes widen as he sees Ruby glowing with a rainbow light, almost a Kaleidoscope of color, while most of the room is coated with a glowing red aura, like a forge. Erik glows in his eyes with the heat of the forge, but just as much with cold ice.



“Fascinating...” EMIYA admits. “These analyze things for... not prana, but... ‘Legend?’”



“Absolutely correct—they analyze sources of legend, and work rudimentary facts out about them, as well as giving me information about locations, and range.” Erik admits, with a studying look.



“My Reality Marble, on the other hand, why that?” EMIYA asks, calmly, as Erik pulls out Estus Aestus, calmly putting it down on the table.



“I noticed that when you used it, my own Legend surged, temporarily pushing me closer to being the God I truly am, rather than the somewhat sealed avatar before you.” Erik admits.



EMIYA blinks, before his eyes narrow in understanding. “And so you're looking into alternative ways to regain your full power, then. Fair.”



“Especially since most of my source of worship—barring Mordred, anyway—is located in orbit of Mars right now... One false step and I'm literally dead, along with everyone else I love.” Erik admits. “It's rather flimsy, I don't exactly have time to act as a missionary for myself with this damned war going on, and if something happens...”



EMIYA thinks, his mind analyzing things, before he eventually speaks up to answer. “...That’s perfectly understandable. Your entire base of power is threatened, and you're not sure how to cope.”



“Add in the scare with TYPE-MARS itself deciding to look at my Wolfen when we wound up in this universe, deciding to tell me some things, and it's been a rough ride.” Erik admits, studying the sword, and EMIYA. EMIYA, on the other hand, just shudders.



“So, what's your plan for this prank, anyways?” the Counter Guardian asks, deliberately changing the subject.



“See, I'm not exactly perfect with a sword,” Erik began, by way of explanation, “And, once this war is over, Godafrid is likely to not have any tutors for it. You have the ability to see the history of how a sword is used, as part of your magecraft, right?”



EMIYA slowly nods.



“And, I know a small bit about illusions, and how someone would use runes to make them, or make themselves invisible, with the sheer amount of runes I've had to make for the subject.” Erik admits, while the other blinks, not exactly sure where this is going, but curious.



“Go on...”



“If I combine my knowledge of illusions with runes, with your ability to see the history of the wielder, do you think we could make an illusion of Nero as a teacher, to teach Godafrid how to use her sword?” Erik grins.



EMIYA smirks, countering with a question of his own. “One that's capable of replying, I suppose?”



Erik nods in answer, his grin widening. “Exactly.”



EMIYA laughs, and then laughs harder, before he nods. “It sounds like a terrible, horrible prank—especially if it's active all the time, and Godafrid can't mess with things!”



Erik’s grin shows teeth. “My thoughts, exactly—and considering how she was in Fate/Extra, he'd have to cope with her saying 'Umu!' all the time, as well as tone-deaf singing—from lungs that rival someone with a dragon’s—from her!”



EMIYA laughs again, as does Erik this time.



“That's a truly wonderful, horrible prank—especially if he can't turn it off, “ EMIYA proclaims. “I'm in, and I'll work with you to see if we can't get your sunglasses to work with my Structural Analysis, or something similar. I have to pay you back for getting me a body and out of this damned contract with Alaya somehow...“



“As for my Reality Marble, I'm not so sure on that front,” he admits. “It depends on your mindset, and forcing it to manifest. Yours seems rather human, in many ways, and you would have to embrace the inhumanity within you rather than ignoring it to be mostly human.”




Erik thinks, and nods. “I suspect it would be linked to my abilities with machines, more than anything else. I'm just not sure how so.” EMIYA blinks, before Erik continues, “My most useful, and broken skill is one that is personalized to me. No other God can use it, which tends to be less skills used by Gods, and more skills occasionally made by Titans.”



Erik pauses, grabbing a bottle of water to drink. After finishing it quickly, he continues. “It allows me to create machines using only pure Legend to craft them, the more the better. But I've noticed that it's gotten as easy as when I'm normally a full God again, and I'm not sure if it's me getting to be more used to this state, or if it's something to do with this Cosmoreactor prototype in my chest.”




EMIYA thinks, listening. “Anything else?”




Erik thinks, and then sighs. “Rather than being the Norse God of Machines, I'm the Norse God of Innovation and Mecha—but machines still work best with me, so maybe it could be something to do with machinery as a whole?”




EMIYA considers it, before finally admitting, “That's something you'll have to figure out, to be honest. I'll give you some tips while we work on the sword, though.”




An hour passes, as they work. Hard, sweaty work, engraving runes upon the sword, hidden within the blade, meant to draw upon the experiences of Nero Claudius as he (or in timelines like this one, SHE) lived. Draw upon them, and pull them out of the blade, to form a representation of Nero Claudius.




The blade, on the other hand, has other ideas about what should be done, and as they try to influence the sword, it subtly influences them, as well—a slightly miswritten rune here, a minor error to the positioning of the rune there… It slowly adds up.



As EMIYA works during this period of time, he blinks at Structural Analysis showing that the sword is helping them form the runes. Then, he focuses for a moment, feeling what the sword is attempting to do. At a flash of intent from the blade later, he simply nods and continues; it's trying to help them, after all, for what in its primitive mind passes as “help.”




When they're done, they sit back, and smile at each other, before Erik leaves to get Godafrid and give him his new sword. EMIYA, on the other hand, starts studying the sunglasses, trying to work out how to give the pair any form of Structural Analysis.




On the other hand ...




Estus Aestus, as a two-thousand-plus-year-old sword, may not be sentient—but it still has some form of willpower, being the physical blade a Noble Phantasm is based upon. And as power runs through it, from its new wielder picking it up, something unique happens.







Time: Unknown

The Throne of Heroes







Nero Claudius, Emperor of Rome, sits on her bed, casually painting her toenails. “Ahh, this is the life! Umu! All must be great as a Roman Emperor is!”




Then she pauses, as she notices something appear in the corner of her eye. “Ah—is this a summoning, perhaps? Has someone chosen to be a Praetor for this Emperor?”




With a dash, she arrives, studying what has arrived. “Not a summoning, then. A contract?”

Curious, as this was not how summons worked, and she knew no other form of contact from outside the Throne, Nero unfurled the scroll (an unfamiliar form of parchment, indeed), and began to read.

“Hmm... ‘Summoned as a mentor’... ‘Invisible to all but the one summoned…’ ‘Supposed to sing a lot…’ ‘Meant to teach someone—HOW TO USE MY SWORD?!’ UMU! SOMEONE HAS CLAIMED MY TREASURED BLADE!” Nero shouts.

Truly, it awoke mixed feelings in her; never did the Emperor of Roses like surrendering what was hers, and yet—for there to be a potential successor, a true heir such as she had been denied in life...

“Another to use my precious Estus Aestus!” she exclaims, vocalizing the problem, before audibly deciding “I will be overjoyed to teach them how to use my sword! I shall teach them how to be as graceful as a nymph, yet with all the majesty that befits a Roman Emperor!”




Nero settles back onto her bed, pulling the contract with, and smiles. “Let's see now, what else... ‘To act as a Teacher, or Mentor, for a young descendant of the Gods?!‘ Umu! I shall accept! They shall be as good as I am—in swordsmanship, and poetry, in all the passions of their hearts! And especially in singing!”
If the Gods had returned, so too then must have Heroes; and she would make of this one a new Hercules in fame!
After a moment's of work, she calmly puts a sign on the metaphysical version of what passes for a door in the Throne of Heroes, which says: “Out for lunch, do not disturb.” Then, she walks back over, signs the contract, and smiles as she fades out of the room entirely.



A few moments later (or whatever passes for moments within the Throne of Heroes), a knock on the door is heard.



“Nero? Are you in? I wanted to talk with you about—” Boudica asks, opening the door as she does so—
Only to behold an empty chamber.
“Huh,” the Queen of the Iceni remarks, as she only now notices the sign on the door she passed through. “‘Out to lunch’ indeed, it seems! Though I'm not sure exactly where or how...”
For a moment, she puts one finger to her lips as she thinks, eyes still scanning the empty room, before deciding, “Oh well, I'm sure she'll tell me when she's back. It's not like we can leave, after all, right? Right!”






Author's Notes:



So. Erik and EMIYA planned on giving Godafrid a copy of Nero's mind to sing at him, and go “Umu” all the time, when not teaching Godafrid swordsmanship. Instead, they accidentally summoned her into the illusion to be a form of Guide, out of Scion.



Let me be absolutely clear, here. She is not being summoned as a Servant. Period. Instead, she's showing up as a Guide, for things like swordsmanship. And if she wants to make him sing “just as well as she does”, then she can. Because Guides are like that in Scion.



So no class body for her. No “summoned under this class or that class” for her. He's getting the entire heroic spirit, leaving a sign saying “Out for lunch” in the Throne of Heroes, and sticking herself entirely in the illusion to help him. For better or for worse.



And for the “Umu!” of course. Can't forget that.



Of course, if he tried summoning her, while she's like this, something interesting could happen. But why would she admit to her actually being there, and not being a copy of her own mind? That might interrupt her vacation!

[Xamusel]

...and Nero left the Throne of Heroes, didn't she?

[Arbitrarity]

Which is definitely interesting, and is apparently technically possible (Gaia or Alaya can summon Heroic Spirits directly, rather than copies like in classes, which implies the World is taking a more active notice, if it's facilitating a usually-impossible summon)

Well, summoning was a valid guess, I suppose. In theory I thought class containers usually WEAKENED Heroic Spirits compared to their true forms, but perhaps the contract restrictions will prevent much intervention. I wouldn't put it past Nero to still do something impressive later, even if it only appears to be a joke now.

Interesting that Vlad is actually willing to consider going Dracula here. I really like the emotional appeal that Darnic makes (even if it's kinda fake), though my understanding was that Vlad would usually rather lose and die than allow that. I suppose Erik having mentioned Castlevania being kinda respectable has made him slightly more open to the idea. Which is bad news, of course. Scylla is somewhat on top of things, so hopefully they can get that to Erik quickly.

Mute button for Ruby was solely as a favour to get EMIYA to help with other stuff. Nice. Structural Analysis would definitely make those goggles even more useful.

[Kieran]

Also Known As, If I'd Watched "Fate/EXTRA: Last Encore" Instead . . .

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: B- . . . 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 mess in Trifas.

Given what happened, and what we had to do to try and fix it, I’m amazed I died that late—if I did in fact die . . .

After all, if XX’s predestination paradox held true, he still had to—and would, regardless of what happened around him—survive long enough to meet her younger self, somehow.

Still, this was concerning, to understate things to a criminal degree. 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. Which shouldn’t have been an issue, since Rin had said Shiki had gotten out of that mess—but given how time had apparently been reacting around him, it wouldn’t be (all that) surprising to find himself having a hand in things, retroactively . . .

(Though why Ilya would send him, exactly, given that he’d lost his druidic identity and Shiki’s own issues indicated that Mystic Eyes were unreliable in the Moon Cell 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—like, for example, as 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. As Godafrid Úa Súilleabháin, he’d been in his mid-twenties; as Kieran Holt, he’d been not much older, appearance-wise, though the ageless qualities of his elven blood made it difficult to judge. Without the input of outside elements, he ought to be a middle-aged, six-foot, 72-kilogram Caucasian weakling with light chestnut hair, blue eyes, permanently bent knees, spaghetti arms, and more physical ailments than a single human being 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—a decade younger, minimum, than he really ought to be—and with the wiry kind of build that he associated with Shiki. It was a lot closer to his original self than Kieran or Godafrid, but a lot more toned and in-shape than that incarnation of him ever had been.

Moreover, he 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 . . .?

And 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—though it seemed a lot more laidback about it than he remembered. They might be “in school,” but he didn’t remember the classes actually talking about Heroic Spirits in the game playthroughs he’d seen, whereas here . . .

Still, even aside from those oddities, Frid appeared to be a few steps beyond even that. For example, he could see Command Seals on his hand, and actually had access to a terminal; which he could and did use to check the status of things. Although, when he tried to find out why he had all these privileges, it only told him that he was rated as “Administrator: Special Access,” whatever that meant (though at least now, he could guess why he had the status in the first place).

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 a cerise-haired chick who seemed to be playing the part of Shinji’s henchwoman (he refused to consider the idea that Shinji Matou had a girlfriend), but the presence of Hakuno Kishinami—and the female version, at that—within this same pseudo-setting.

At least the confirmation of 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!

. . . Besides, Frid admitted to himself, he was probably just seeing elements of Fiore in her.

(Whom, he’d found out, had grown to be an Olympic medal winner in gymnastics, in this magic-deprived world—which, much like the presence of Sialim Eltnam, he attributed to TYPE-MOON’s desire to flip expectations in the EXTRAverse.)

Still, it wasn’t the same; Hakuno’s chestnut hair was a shade darker, but that wasn’t as noticeable when it gleamed under the sun. It also wasn’t as wavy, but it always caught his attention when it moved, just the same—

The sudden blaring of alarms caught his attention—as did the flashing red lights that washed over the entire area. The announcement that 128 slots were now available for all remaining potential Masters (effectively meaning “kill your way to a spot now, or else”) was even more so.

Fortunately, it appeared to be easy enough to secure himself a spot and soothe his conscience: Shinji’s Number One Hanger-On came at him, and apparently had no idea how to actually fight. If it had been one of the EXTRA characters he knew—barring the Harways, the crazy cannibal lady, the idiot who’d corrupted Arcueid (and wow, this place was a target-rich environment, wasn’t it?)—it might’ve been an issue, but a non-entity whose best reference was Shinji . . .?

Yeah, no.

So, his spot was locked in easily enough, all he had to do was summon a Servant, and hope he didn’t wind up facing Hakuno, somehow . . .

Frid glanced at his hand again, suddenly realising why the design looked familiar—

Again—yeah, no. In fact, not only no, but HELL, NO!

Frid manifested a keyboard.

[Administrator Override Authorisation Accepted—Summoning Program Paused. Open Data Search . . . Match Found. Open File in New Window. . . Merge Existing Files? Y/N? Y—]

[Save File As ******]

[Warning: Relevant Data to File Detected in Administrator Data. Advancing Decision to Primary Core . . .]

[Core Decision: Priority: Fulfilling Administrator Desire—Copying Necessary Data. Estimated Time to Completion: 999 Cycles.]

[Resume Summoning Program . . . ]








Wide-eyed, the little girl in black Victorian dress stared at her hands, and then around her. “Alice is . . .? Alice is alive . . .?”

“Alice, Nursery Rhyme,” Frid said. “I wasn’t willing to lose either of you—or break you up, for that matter.”

The Caster Demi-Servant—or maybe Pseudo-Servant; it was hard to tell, since neither of them had a body to possess . . .

“Nursery Rhyme . . .” Alice repeated, nodding. “Alice is Nursery Rhyme. Nursery Rhyme is Alice. Servant, Caster . . .”

She curtsied, as a properly-raised Victorian girl ought to, and introduced herself, “Hello to the wonderful you. Let’s make this a beautiful dream . . .” She hesitated briefly, drawing inward with a shy blush, before asking, very quietly, “Can I call you ‘Big Brother,’ Mister . . .?”








Writer's Notes: Because I just finished Nursery Rhyme's "arc," and I am seriously considering throwing this set against a wall . . .

[RanmaBushiko]

...and Nero left the Throne of Heroes, didn't she?

Yup. She managed it, through the contract.

Which is definitely interesting, and is apparently technically possible (Gaia or Alaya can summon Heroic Spirits directly, rather than copies like in classes, which implies the World is taking a more active notice, if it's facilitating a usually-impossible summon)

Well, summoning was a valid guess, I suppose. In theory I thought class containers usually WEAKENED Heroic Spirits compared to their true forms, but perhaps the contract restrictions will prevent much intervention. I wouldn't put it past Nero to still do something impressive later, even if it only appears to be a joke now.

Interesting that Vlad is actually willing to consider going Dracula here. I really like the emotional appeal that Darnic makes (even if it's kinda fake), though my understanding was that Vlad would usually rather lose and die than allow that. I suppose Erik having mentioned Castlevania being kinda respectable has made him slightly more open to the idea. Which is bad news, of course. Scylla is somewhat on top of things, so hopefully they can get that to Erik quickly.

Mute button for Ruby was solely as a favour to get EMIYA to help with other stuff. Nice. Structural Analysis would definitely make those goggles even more useful.

Let's see now... yeah, the World (oh, all the Dio jokes I could be making right now...) is definitely taking some notice...

Class containers DO weaken heroic spirits. At the same time, the contract restrictions prevents intervention unless she wants to blow her cover, and ruin her vacation. Now, which matters more to her, is still up for grabs...

Vlad is staring at a 40,000 Legion of Coal Army, comparing it to the 400 golems, and 100 homunculi that Yggdmillenia has, and is going "Nope. Not happening. Kazikli Bey or not, it's not happening.", and, as a result, is actually listening to his Master for once. Castlevania DOES help, though, as well as the rest of the chat earlier. It is definitely bad news, though.

As for Darnic, he was a pain to write, here. At the same time, keep in mind, that he hoodwinked, manipulated, and outright wiped out the Nazis helping him to get the Greater Grail, as well as managing to manipulate them in the first place. He's effectively, in canon, half crippled in skill, with his soul being only 60% compatible with his body.

Since, for the moment, he is going at 100% again? We've got him fully functional for the first time in either Apocrypha or Anarchy. And he's actually showing his former competence here. Not as the mess he was in Apocrypha, but the magnificent bastard actor that convinced the Nazis into thinking he was fully on their side.

So we see him emotionally appealing to his faction. We see him working to help them understand (in part) his side of things. And for once, we see actual competence, and him getting a chance to show himself as a leader, for once.

On the subject of Erik's goggles? His goggles, sadly enough, are full up, as a relic. The sunglasses of analysis, on the other hand, aren't. And the goggles have a nasty time limit already in them. Anything more, and Erik's eyes would either pop, or his head would start bleeding from giving himself a stroke, with how potent they are.

Sorry, but the supremely broken goggles that give +29 to all crafting rolls made with them are still supremely broken. It doesn't help with Science rolls, but they're still stupidly broken when it comes to crafting, and fighting.

Let's be honest. If I'd gone for +11 instead, then they'd be safe to wear without headaches for him. But Erik traded migraines for power with them.

Now, if Erik had gone for Death abilities, he wouldn't have so many issues. But he didn't, so the migraines are here to stay as a result.

Also Known As, If I'd Watched "Fate/EXTRA: Last Encore" Instead . . .

Writer's Notes: Because I just finished Nursery Rhyme's "arc," and I am seriously considering throwing this set against a wall . . .

Adorable scene at the end.

[Kieran]

Yup. She managed it, through the contract.

Let's see now...

Class containers DO weaken heroic spirits. At the same time, the contract restrictions prevents intervention unless she wants to blow her cover, and ruin her vacation. Now, which matters more to her, is still up for grabs...

And depending on what happens in the interim . . . Well, it wouldn't be the first time Erik (or Nero) outsmarted him(her)self . . .

Vlad is staring at a 40,000 Legion of Coal Army, comparing it to the 400 golems, and 100 homunculi that Yggdmillenia has, and is going "Nope. Not happening. Kazikli Bey or not, it's not happening.", and, as a result, is actually listening to his Master for once. Castlevania DOES help, though, as well as the rest of the chat earlier. It is definitely bad news, though.

And that's assuming he makes it through the fight with the Hanging Gardens without a single loss - not good odds.

As for Darnic, he was a pain to write, here.

This is true; the arguments got - well, "heated" is the wrong word, but definitely emphatic.

At the same time, keep in mind, that he hoodwinked, manipulated, and outright wiped out the Nazis helping him to get the Greater Grail, as well as managing to manipulate them in the first place. He's effectively, in canon, half crippled in skill, with his soul being only 60% compatible with his body.

Since, for the moment, he is going at 100% again? We've got him fully functional for the first time in either Apocrypha or Anarchy. And he's actually showing his former competence here. Not as the mess he was in Apocrypha, but the magnificent bastard actor that convinced the Nazis into thinking he was fully on their side.

*Nods* Which is what finally convinced me . . .

So we see him emotionally appealing to his faction. We see him working to help them understand (in part) his side of things. And for once, we see actual competence, and him getting a chance to show himself as a leader, for once.

But trust me: it took a lot of work on RB's part to get there. He really put in the hours on this one.

On the subject of Erik's goggles? His goggles, sadly enough, are full up, as a relic. The sunglasses of analysis, on the other hand, aren't. And the goggles have a nasty time limit already in them. Anything more, and Erik's eyes would either pop, or his head would start bleeding from giving himself a stroke, with how potent they are.

Yeah - Norse gods are comparatively fragile, among pantheons . . . Compare to the Olympians, who can lose major organs, as well the entirety of their sinews, and not only survive, but recover.

Sorry, but the supremely broken goggles that give +29 to all crafting rolls made with them are still supremely broken. It doesn't help with Science rolls, but they're still stupidly broken when it comes to crafting, and fighting.

Only +29 . . .?

Let's be honest. If I'd gone for +11 instead, then they'd be safe to wear without headaches for him. But Erik traded migraines for power with them.

Now, if Erik had gone for Death abilities, he wouldn't have so many issues. But he didn't, so the migraines are here to stay as a result.

Yup.

Adorable scene at the end.

Thank you - these last couple of episodes were rough. I'm honestly debating whether to bother finishing the series; Nero and Rin aren't getting enough screen time to counterbalance it.

[RanmaBushiko]

Chapter 49: The Edge of the Storm




9:00 AM



The Wolfen
Small Shrine Room



After hours of sobbing, tears, and being comforted by her mother, Tamamo slowly comes to her senses. Her mother's clothing, covered in tears and mucus. Her own kimono, similarly covered. No tissues left in sight. Then, in that moment, Tamamo realized what her mother would punish her for.



In that moment, out of sheer desperation, Tamamo moves, desperately trying to clean up her mother's clothes with a handkerchief. Furious scrubbing results, before Amaterasu stops her, gently.



"Why do you look at me with such terror, my daughter? Was my alternate so horrible a mother?" Amaterasu asks, softly, hugging Tamamo close.



Tamamo nods, quietly shaking. Moments later, Amaterasu realizes why. "Are you scared of me punishing you? Or are you scared she'll come to punish you, somehow, irregardless of distance?"



"It's..." Tamamo's voice hitches. "You're so nice..."



Amaterasu's eyes widen at Tamamo's words, before she hugs Tamamo closer. "Was she so terrible then?"



Tamamo weakly nods, enjoying, rather than fearing, her mother's embrace for the first time in her life.



"She...One of my sisters... didn't become a full fledged member of the pantheon simply because she didn't bow low enough to her. I was sealed in a goddamned ROCK for over several centuries, because I hadn't been respectful enough to her, and failed a single mission from her. There was no love lost between my own version of my mother, and myself... and then you're in my life. You aren't like her at all. It's... I half-wonder if we truly died in dimensional transit, and this is somehow Heaven because you're so kind." Tamamo speaks, hesitantly opening up to her mother.




Amaterasu's eyes widen in horrified shock, as she rocks her dimensionally-estranged daughter, comforting her.



"I lived in fear, every day. That I would fail again, and be stuck in that damned rock again. For years. And then my wonderful, wonderful husband found me. Traded me the Yata no Kagami for help with the Fenrirspawn that followed him, to disguise his father figure as a massive dog..." Tamamo pauses, her eyes lowered. "And then, after he managed to replicate it somehow, and asked me for help... I decided to go. Even though she would likely hurt me. And when I thought I was about to die in there, Erik jumped in the way, took the blow for me as I was getting thrown towards a window. Caught me, as well, and then kept me safe for the rest of that fight. But in those moments where I thought I was about to die...? I thought it was better off that I died, than to deal with my mother once more."




"You poor child..." Amaterasu whispers, hugging Tamamo gently.



"It... my mother was a cruel bitch. She thought nothing of punishing us in her pantheon, if we failed to follow orders. So when she had some favors called in by Erik's Father, for me to become a Guide for him... She hated it. If it wasn't for Erik being a possibly good fit for the Pantheon, I would have been left in the rock again. She threatened me with it, if I failed to bring him in, or twist him to our ways..." Tamamo breathes out, and then grabs a bottle of water to drink, before speaking up again. Amaterasu gently rubs Tamamo's back, softly.



"She fully expected him to join the Amatsukami Pantheon, make him a God of Machines under her. She asked me to train him in manners, in being a proper Japanese husband. In that, I succeeded..." Tamamo trails off, for a moment. "But in convincing him to become a member of the Amatsukami Pantheon, I failed. We both knew our divine parents, Uller and your counterpart both, spied on us frequently. With how famous we were becoming, as Demigods..." Tamamo breathes out, rubbing her forehead.



"Instead, he convinced me to follow him, and his insane plan, citing how we defeated Fafnir. And so, I sacrificed pretty much everything. My developing abilities to work with Kami, both major and minor... any chance of working things out with my version of my mother, like I seem to be with you. Everything, and followed Erik to the Norse Pantheon." Tamamo admits, looking hesitantly up at Amaterasu.



"I can imagine I would have been positively enraged..." Amaterasu admits. "And yet, you love him. I can see that in your eyes. So I can't precisely blame you in loving him."



Tamamo smiles, weakly. "If only your counterpart thought the same way..."



Amaterasu resumes hugging Tamamo, gently, as Tamamo resumes speaking. "Eventually? Erik's mad, insane plan succeeded, against all the odds. We dealt with all the major threats to the Norse Pantheon. Jormungandr lay dead. But... Erik was terrified that the Norse Pantheon would backstab him, if things failed with Fenris. And so he built the Wolfen, as well as a massive underwater base, Wolf Home..."



"What happened?" Amaterasu asks, quietly.



"We won. But... the entire reason why Erik became a Norse God in the first place, was that the divine progenitors, the Titans, all were released. And in the process of unsealing Fenris, breaking the bindings that bound him, in a time loop..." Tamamo gulps down more water, then closes her eyes. "In the process of going back in time, Fenris' chains being removed resulted in the Titans being released as well." Tamamo admits, leaving Amaterasu frowning.



"That's concerning, to say the least." Amaterasu admits, leaving Tamamo nodding quietly.



"To be honest, once we realized the inevitable response once all the pantheons realized what had happened, we started building up,” Tamamo admits, her eyes closed. “Followers, allies, everything we could get our hands on. And eventually, it did get out. And once pantheons realized that we were the source of the Titans being unsealed, my version of my mother outright planning on sealing myself into a rock, Goddess or not, the next time she found me. So, we hid. Wolf Home was hidden in Antarctica, hidden deep underwater there. So we had others take over the multi-billion dollar businesses that we'd built up, until we could enact our plans to leave."



Amaterasu stares at her daughter in no small horror. "She really would have sealed you in that rock again?!"



Tamamo simply nods, quietly. "She would have, and with a smile on her face, too."



"I hate her more already," Amaterasu admits, hugging Tamamo close.




"Once we had the followers, the scientists and researchers, we told them that we were aiming to head for Mars—to live there, and terraform it. We brought along decades of food, water, air... we had most everything covered. And for 25 years, we lived in peace there, while all the Pantheons desperately searched for us, confused as to where the hell we'd gone to. It wasn't until mankind noticed the massive base on Mars that they'd realized where we'd gone and what we'd done..." Tamamo trails off in the memories, closing her eyes.



"How did she react, my counterpart?" Amaterasu asks, softly.



"For years, she hated me and Erik, but towards the end, she softened slightly when she realized that Erik, I and Fenris all had a good chance of being the first Martian Pantheon, and it sticking. Which, when the cataclysm came, and the call to arms for all forces, even Erik's help, as much as the Pantheons hated to ask for it, reached us... we came running, sacrificing a lot of our armaments and equipment to try and help. I was with her, in the end, as she... As she died." Tamamo admits, quietly. "She said she was... Proud of me—but if she was proud, why did she hurt me by leaving me in the rock so damned long?! Why was she planning on leaving me in there again?!"




As Tamamo finish venting, tears once more come from her eyes, as Amaterasu hugs her close, rocking her tenderly.



Time passes, as they recover together, cleaning each other up softly to make themselves look like proper Japanese ladies once more, even if Amaterasu's missing arm makes it harder for her. But between them, things have changed.



“Thank you for helping me. You aren't exactly helping with my thinking that this isn't Heaven, however...” Tamamo smiles softly.



“If I could, I would not only adopt you, but offer you a wolf as a familiar and ally, similar to that Okami game's Shiranui. With divine power being so weak, however, I'm afraid I can't exactly do that. The best I can do would be to offer to teach you a few skills that I know personally, and offer the three of you support from me.” Amaterasu admits, softly.



“I...” Tamamo pauses, unsure of what to say for a moment. Then she studies this version of her mother from another universe, truly looks at her. “I'd be happy to. I'll have to check up on some medical equipment, though, as well. The cloning technology should be just about done, so we'll have to test it soon before helping Kairi with his daughter.”



Amaterasu nods. “Let's go then. When was it supposed to be done?”



“Ah... About 8:00 AM,” Tamamo thinks aloud, “What time is it, anyways?” She starts hunting for the clock in the room. “Oh, where did I put that clock...? I moved it last time, to ensure it wouldn't bother me with ticking, and I never bothered to put it back!”



“I found it!” Amaterasu smiles. “And it's 9:45 AM.”



“Nine forty-five?!” Tamamo yelps, ears standing erect. “I'm so late, it's not even funny! Breakfast! I forgot to cook BREAKFAST!”



Amaterasu restrains a giggle as Tamamo rushes to get out the door, before following her out.



“I'm sure your husband will have covered it.” Amaterasu says with a smile, as she follows Tamamo. “I suppose I'll have to tutor you while you check on things?”



Tamamo glances back, then nods, before slowing down to acceptable speeds for a Japanese Lady. “I'd be honored. And you're right, my husband probably handled it. Even if he's nowhere near as good a cook...”






10:00 AM
The Hanging Gardens



Semiramis sighs, stretching, as she finishes.



“Your Servant,” she pronounces, “or perhaps I should say ‘daughter,’ is fully healed—not for a lack of work on our enemies’ parts, however.”




Jack the Ripper's Master sighs, and nods. “Thank you very much. It's been stressful, and considering I have no knowledge involving magic, or how to use it...”



“I did notice some discrepancies, however, with you,” Semiramis continues, studying her guest. “You do seem to have Magic Circuits, if inactive ones—perhaps you could enlighten me?”



“I-I do?!” Jack's Master blinks in consternation. “I suppose that explains some things about myself, then...”




“Hm—so you didn't know. And since they're inactive, your daughter hasn't been able to tap into them properly…I suppose that makes sense. Would you like help with fixing that issue?” Semiramis smiles.




“Mommy? You should do it! It'll help me protect you better!” Jack the Ripper says, with a smile, as she hugs her mother figure. “And thank you for helping me heal, Miss Semiramis! You're really nice!”




Semiramis smiles softly, her eyes somewhat calculating as the woman before her slowly nods. “I suppose I won't mind then, if it's for young Jack here. Please. Let's do this before I lose my nerve.”



“Keep in mind, Jack. Your mother won't have much experience with Prana, Od to be more specific, moving through her Magic Circuits.” Semiramis admits. “Now, let's get my Master in here so he can awaken yours.”




Jack's Master nods, as she hugs Jack the Ripper gently. Long brown hair cloaks her daughter as they both wait, hugging each other in the meantime.



Soon enough, Shirou Kotomine walks in, sipping on a cup of coffee as he does so. “Sorry for not being more awake, the prana upkeep for Semiramis is tiring. Especially with this place, irregardless of how much less strain there is than there could be.”



“It's alright.” His counterpart admits. “I'm fine with hugging my adorable daughter, here.”



Shirou smiles and nods. “We never did get around to introducing ourselves, did we? I'm Shirou Kotomine, formerly an Executor for the Church against monsters that truly exist in the world, and are kept hidden from the world at large. And you are?”



“A monster hunter? My, to know such things truly exist– and the way you say that, hints that there are other groups that deal with such things, too. Ah, right. My name is Kiara Sesshouin. Former head of therapy, for the Animusphere offshore oil rig Seraphix.” She smiles, at Shirou Kotomine.




“Seraphix? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that, sorry.” Shirou admits, working on a pill when not sipping on coffee. “Mind if I ask how you wound up off that... oil rig?”



Kiara moves to fold her arms, before looking down at Jack the Ripper, and hugging her daughter closer instead. “To be honest, it's all more than a bit confusing to me. The director asked me to try for an experimental procedure, called a Rayshift. Then something went wrong in the facility, before I woke up cold, alone, and confused in Japan. A friendly lady named Reika took me in, to help me get back on my feet, but I soon found myself jobless...”




“Jobless, you say?” Shirou's eyes narrow, contemplatively. “How so?”



“For me, it was 2016 when I experienced that Rayshift—and it’s now 2004,” Kiara admits, her arms folded. “The oil rig isn't even built yet, and thus, I have no job. And, some other things have been worrying, as well. I can't find any proof I exist, here.”



“So without proof of your existence, you had to turn to other methods to survive, at least until you could get identification. And telling anyone about your existence would have left you experimented upon, instead of helped.” Shirou muses aloud, concluding with a sigh. “I'm sorry to hear that. Any lost children of the Lord should not have suffered like you have.”



Kiara smiles, weakly. “Thank you... Ah, what were we supposed to do again?”



Shirou blinks, before his eyes widen. “Right—you were supposed to take this, and swallow it. It should activate your Magic Circuits, so your daughter can be supported by you for any fighting to come.”



Kiara studies it, blinking. “It looks like a pill. Why is this supposed to be able to open my... Magic Circuits?”



“It's filled with several ingredients meant to help your body handle the shock of your Magic Circuits opening for the first time. Thankfully, Executors like me get relatively easy-to-use items like this, rather than some mages,” Shirou admits. “My adoptive brother told me about his ward using a gemstone to awaken hers, by swallowing it. I'm sure you can imagine how painful that was going through her system later.”



Kiara winces. “If that's anything like a kidney stone, I feel only pity for the poor girl...” With those words, Kiara takes it, hugging Jack the Ripper close, closing her eyes.



Soon enough, she's wincing in pain. “Does it HAVE to feel like my entire body is going through period cramps?!” Kiara growls, as she trembles from it. “This is absolute hell right now.”



“...I did not know it was possible for period cramps to get that bad.” Shirou admits, rubbing his forehead. “Semiramis, can you aid her in any way?”



“Nothing that won't kill her, I'm afraid,” Semiramis admits. “My specialty is poison, not healing.”



“Isn't alcohol technically a form of poison?” Kiara shoots back. “Perhaps you can look into that as an option?”



Semiramis blinks. Shirou blinks. Even Jack the Ripper blinks, on her adoptive mother's lap.



“Oh, really now,” Semiramis muses. “If I'd known that years ago... but brewing alcohol takes a while. A pity, that.”
“What about mixing drinks?” Kiara looks at Semiramis pointedly. “You don't need to make it, just mix it. And if the drinks are mixed with something meant to have healing properties...”



“I mean, if you're willing to send your Servant down to get the drinks in question, and something for the pain, I could.” Semiramis admits, with a bit of a smile. “Getting everything back up will be tiring, though. Especially considering how much time we have spent on things already.”



“Aren't we dozens of miles away by now? I'd think we'd be close to a town somewhere...” Kiara asks, as the pain slowly dies down for her.



“We only moved two hours out, and then hid in a rather large cloud I'm keeping together with magic. Our enemy has a Norse God against us, and with the truce to ensure both of us Assassin Servants are dealt with, I'd prefer to use stealth against that massive monstrosity of a battleship the Norse God in question has.” Semiramis admits. “I'd rather not fight that thing head on, even if I can see through his cloak.”



Kiara slowly nods, thinking. “My darling daughter? Do you have any suggestions for things, or tactics? Lady Semiramis, would you have any, as well?”



Semiramis smiles softly. “I mean, I have a thousand Dragon's-Tooth Skeletons left right now, all capable of flight, after the earlier fight. Perhaps that could come in handy? If not, you'll have to wait until 8 hours have passed, minimum, for my Master to have the Prana on hand to—wait. Master? If I recall correctly, Erik mentioned in our little showdown, that most of the Masters of Red have taken refuge on the Wolfen...”



At that, Jack the Ripper speaks up. “Miss Semiramis...? Could you maybe make the skeletons look like children?”



Semiramis glances over. “That would be doable, I suppose.”



“One of my abilities is to send... parts of me to possess children.” Jack admits, hesitantly. “If I could store the skeletons somehow, I could likely sneak on board his ship! And then make all the skeletons stronger by possessing all of them at once!” She finishes with a bright smile.



“Leaving an Assassin on board with all the remaining Masters of Red...” Semiramis nods, thinking.



“And with your Mother's stores of prana now fully accessible to you, you're effectively fresh, compared to Semiramis.” Shirou muses.



“I'd have to reinforce half of the Dragon's-Tooth Warriors using the other half, leaving us defenseless. But if you know how to get over there, or have any ideas for getting to his Aerial Battleship, I could set things up in a couple of hours, I suppose.”



“If you could get us super high into the atmosphere...” Kiara hesitantly starts. “Would a hang glider work? The higher you get, the faster the winds can get. If Jack rode one...”



Semiramis looks over at Shirou, thinking. “Would you happen to know how to build one, Master? I'm afraid I don't know much about that.”



“You know?” Shirou admits with a slowly growing smile. “I think I DO know how to build one, in fact. We have a plan, and it's a decent one, at that. Do you have any skills to help you when it comes to his technology, though?”



Jack quietly nods. “No technology seems to remember me, once a fight is over. Or people, either... If I stay out of sight, mostly, then he'll have problems with remembering me.”



Shirou's smile widens. “Perfect. Absolutely, utterly perfect.”






12:30 PM



The Wolfen
En-Route to the Battle Bridge



Erik sighs, as he stretches. “Godafrid's been busy, so I can't exactly see the results of our prank. Did you want to discuss anything else, EMIYA? Perhaps why your Master has been following us to here?”



“Tch. And here I'd hoped I'd be able to sneak up and see if you and Archer were up to anything interesting. Would you be willing to answer my questions, if I ask them?” Rin asks, stepping out of the shadows to study them both.



Erik nods, studying her carefully. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Just to be fair, though, if you try shit, it won't go well, okay? Not that I think you would, but I have to make the point nevertheless.”



Rin nods, slowly, as she follows. “That’s fair enough. I don't plan on anything to mess with your own but I'd rather get things straight between us.”



Erik simply chuckles. “Fair enough.”



As they walk into the Battle Bridge, Rin's eyes widen slightly. “Another bridge?”



Erik nods. “This was built custom in case we had to deal with nukes, or use a system meant for in case the Ragnarok ever happened. Unfortunately, I never managed to finish that system. Using it would break huge chunks of my Wolfen, sad to say.”



Rin's eyes widen in surprise, before she nods. “That worried?”



“After we dealt with Surtr, we heard a rumor that he turned his main fortress into a giant mech deep below the sections we visited, one we had barely missed out on fighting. I don't know if it was TRUE or not, but it made me realize that if it HAD been true, we would have been in deep, deep shit.” Erik admits, leaving Rin and EMIYA both wide eyed and speechless.



“Oh.” Rin weakly says, as she takes a seat.



“And why would that be so terrifying?” EMIYA asks, studying Erik. To that, Erik reaches over, turning on a screen, then scrolls through menus. Soon enough, a screen shows, showing footage of Surtr teleporting into a massive metal sphere, followed by a liquid nitrogen bath leaving him screaming in rage.




“That right there, where he first shows up? He's close to a hundred feet tall. He shrank from the bath, but he was still several stories tall.” Erik admits, then glances over, to see them both speechless.



At that, Erik chuckles, then simply plays the tape for them, letting them watch things.



Metal Gear Rex MK2, with a hoverpod acting as its “jaw”, fighting against Surtr, and tearing huge chunks out of him with its weapons, leaving him fighting it first, and desperately.



Erik ejecting the hoverpod, with a shout of “Don't let him get to the secret weapon until I can repair it!” right before Surtr charges for it and it charges back at him.




Metal Gear Rex MK2 detonates, the shockwave sending Surtr flying backwards with a scream of utter hate that shakes the underground cavern the fight is happening in.



Erik's friends and comrades fighting Surtr, holding him back as Erik brings in a second mech, looking like a massive metal wyvern, to continue fighting him with.



The eventual victory, as Surtr is sealed, the video finally showing Odin, the All-Father, having been in the back, working to seal Surtr using his own blade. Only for the King of Svartalfheim to steal the sword, and run Surtr through with it, the sealing taking effect as Surtr stares at his own blade, knowing his utter vulnerability to it, in horror.



“Mecha Fafnir MK1 is in the recently recovered Mecha Museum, down at the bottom of the ship.” Erik admits. “It's not quite comparable to my more potent creations since then, but it's still one of my mecha.”



Rin turns, staring in wide eyed shock. “He—Odin—he winked at the camera, at the end.”



Erik snorts. “I'm not surprised. I may not have trusted him fully, but he was perceptive for good reason. He was as perceptive with seeing stuff, as I am good with building stuff.”



EMIYA winces. “That's... Completely terrifying, to be honest—and downright accurate to the myths.”



“Why do you think I was utterly terrified of pissing him off?!” Erik admits, with a sigh. “Still, you weren't here to chat about old fights of mine. What's going on?”



“We're...” Rin pauses, thinking on how to word things. “Oh, to heck with it—I'm pretty sure the Greater Grail that we’re all supposedly fighting over is involved with a time loop.”



Erik studies her, intently. “I'm listening.”



“You... You know about the Greater Grail having been tainted, right?” Rin asks, quietly. “Twisted, and corrupted?”



“Yeah. I know of it...” Erik says, still studying her just as intently.



“When it came to our version of the Fifth Holy Grail War, it wasn't.” Rin admits. “The signs of it having been tainted were there. The stuff done to my sister was there. But it was completely purged of taint.”



Erik pauses. “Well. You're thinking it was this one, then?”




Rin nods, quietly.



“Well. Shit.” Erik admits, with a sigh. “Fine. Cards on the table time, then.” Rin and EMIYA both blink at Erik's words.



“Oh? Do tell?” Rin asks, not smiling, but studying Erik intently.



“I have... Well, an issue, on my end, as well. One of my Relics is a battery, of sorts. Storing Legend, much like your gems do prana. Follow me so far, Rin?” Erik folds his arms, studying her.



“I can understand the concept, yes...” Rin admits.



“It's the only thing keeping me from being weakened, like my wife and Fenris are. Suffering from the reset in power they went through.” Erik admits, studying her. “And it's slowly starting to crack, as Legend burns a bit away each day.”



“You need more sources of Legend . . . That believe in you the way you are now?” Rin studies him.



“Yup, I do, indeed. I thought about using the Greater Grail, to ensure that I'd not change like my wife and Fenris has, but... I'm pretty sure that because I did a blood brother pact with Fenris, I already fucked that up long term. It still might be an OPTION, but you'd be better off knowing about if it would be or not, than I would.”




Rin's eyes narrow. “It could be doable, but the sheer number of Servants that it would require... We'd have to kill almost all of them.”



“...And I've already given promises to not, to so many.” Erik admits with a sigh. “What would you suggest, in my shoes? Gathering more worshippers? More faithful followers? Getting prayers from Servants?”



“Given the state of magic and Gaia nowadays? You’d need a metric tonne of followers, and maybe Servants would be my best bet, to be honest.” Rin admits with a sigh. “Damn. You've got as many problems as we do.”



Erik chuckles softly. “You're telling me? There are no convenient Titans to fight, to bring myself back up to my old level of strength, you know? Nor any Phantasmal Beasts, not unless I want to be stuck as a prisoner...”



Rin flinches, as does EMIYA.



“A fair point,” Rin admits with a sigh. “Ilya might be able to help, or she might not. It honestly depends. But if you do become weakened, like they have...” Rin rubs her forehead. “Would you accept teams from the Grail Works helping you, Erik?”



“As long as they're willing to sign a Geas contract saying that they'll keep my secrets? Certainly.” Erik admits.



Rin smiles faintly. “I'm sure we can work out something to help you, then.”



Erik chuckles. “It helps that I finished that mute button for Ruby, doesn't it?”



Rin giggles, and then starts laughing outright. “It really does!”



“So,” EMIYA asks, calmly, “why come here to work, Erik?”



“Well, for one. Mordred's going to be done with that second movie any minute now, and likely come in squealing about how badass the Tumbler was, and how much she'd love for me to build her a car like that in those movies...” Erik grins, as Rin blinks.



“Isn't that for alcohol?” Rin asks, blinking more.



“It's a vehicle for a superhero movie.” Erik grins, as Rin sighs.



“Boys and their toys, am I right?” she asked rhetorically.



“Eh. Fair enough. The second reason is that I wanted to work on plating the Wolf Wing here a bit, and use my goggles to make sure there are no heavy issues for it, before finishing things off real quick.” Erik continues, smiling. “Thought you might want to see how a Relic is crafted, rather than just stare blankly as more shit's drawn out in front of you. You could pick up something from this, too! Who knows?”



EMIYA perks up at that. “A chance to see a God craft something? I'm in. Anyways, I'm not done messing with your sunglasses to help repay you.”



It's 30 minutes of hard work, but eventually, they get it finished. Where once, it was covered in dragon hide, it now is covered in shiny metal.



“Hmm...” Erik muses, as Rin studies the runes carefully. “Looks like it can't quite shift into the smaller form, but this larger form gives me access to the runes to keep the damned flying ability working, with blood...”



“Would you happen to have a dictionary for those runes, by any chance?” Rin asks, folding her arms.



“A few. I'll let you look over some later, when we're done. Sound fair?” Erik asks, glancing over.



“Boss!” The Scylla's voice comes through the speaker systems. “Couple of things I wanted to let you know, real fast—both important. Your wife's been keeping me busy with the cloning systems, up until now, so I couldn't before.”



“Yeah, Scylla?” Erik asks out loud.



“First, Darnic's having the Legion of Coal units build a copy of Castlevania. Not sure if that's important or not, but it could be, so I wanted to let you know.” The voice in the speakers sounds slightly irritated.



“Hmm... That...” Erik trails off thinking, his eyes narrowed. “That could be good or bad. It slightly supports my theory that he has some sort of secondary transformation, but if he's aiming for Castlevania, it sounds almost like it's a power-up that involves minions being summoned... And that's good for us. We can counteract most of them with the Legion of Coal's lasers.”



“We can figure that out later, Boss. Bigger problem is that we just had satellites pass by overhead, over the entirety of Romania. The Hanging Gardens are NOWHERE to be seen.”



The Scylla's words leave Erik jumping up. “Say WHAT now?!”




“Seriously, no sign of them according to the Legion of Coal whatsoever, Boss!” The Scylla sounds worried to Erik's ears, as he pulls up a screen, looking over the satellite footage himself.



For a long moment, he looks over footage. “The fuck did she—wait a minute...”



Erik trails off, as he glances back over footage of an odd cloud shape, two hours off. “Something...”



“Why aren't you looking further off?!” Rin asks, behind Erik. “They've doubtlessly gotten jet engines or something on that thing, to get that far away!”



Erik shakes his head, before the Cosmoreactor prototype pulses in his chest. Then his eyes widen as he recognizes it.



“Scylla. The cloud I'm looking at—that's where she's at. Give me a time estimate for speed from there to here, will you?” Erik states.



“Boss? There's no—wait... What the fuck? Holy crap—you're right, it IS there. And she's... Two hours off, Boss, at the speed it was making before. Shit. She's almost right on top of us, tactically.” The Scylla admits.



“She actually pulled a Laputa, with her Laputa knockoff.” Erik rubs his forehead with one hand as EMIYA snickers, catching the reference. “Apparently, she actually knew what Laputa WAS, and pulled a Laputa with her knockoff. Me damn it!”



“Calm down, Boss. There's nothing to be gained by being pissed...” The Scylla's voice echoes in the room, as Erik rubs his forehead.



“Any signs of intruders, on the ship?” Erik asks, his eyes narrowing, as he pulls himself into the seat for the Wolf Wing, several others pulling out of the floor of the hoverpod, for Rin and EMIYA.



“None, Boss!” The Scylla reports, crisply.



“Put half the Legion of Coal units on standby for inside, then. How many of the mechs do we have, left, and out of that, how many are outside?”



“Calculating...” The Scylla's voice goes quiet. “Out of the total 2100 we had before all losses, we've lost a total of 108 units, even, for the fight against Yggdmillenia, followed by 154 units. We have a total of 1838 units remaining.”



Rin freezes at the amount the Scylla has outright stated, as Erik nods.


“And outside, right now?” he asks.



“We've managed to put out 638, so far. We've also got a full 150 inside, Boss. What do you want us to do?” The question asked, leaves Erik thinking, his eyes narrowing as he does so.



“The ones on top? Drop them off at the lake, the jump shouldn't be a problem. After that? Call up Godafrid, warn him that the Hanging Gardens is two hours out, and holding. We'll be heading up, to get out of the line of fire of whatever that...” Erik pauses. “Assassin of Black... What wa—Jack the Ripper. Whatever Jack the Ripper might send at us, since she's likely wanting revenge on me for what I did to her arm.”



“Roger. Coming up to the bridge, then?” Erik nods, as the Wolf Wing, rebuilt as the Mark 2, floats up, then moves through a series of tubes to arrive in the bridge. “Indeed. Nestor, bring us up as high as we can go. Scylla, get that phone call done. If there's any sign of oddities from anything, let me know.”



“Aye, sir. Engines read at full strength.” Nestor admits. “Spinning up all propellers!”



Erik smiles, listening to the sounds of his ship, as massive propellers slowly launch it upwards, helping the gravity systems.




“Sounds like those worked fine. And now for the jets.” Nestor smiles, feeling the thrumming of the ship as it pushes off the ground, and starts going for high into the atmosphere.



“Ahh, the sound of us being airborne,” Erik sighs in satisfaction. “Good work, Nestor.”



Expression firming, Erik orders, “Scylla, keep an ear on Godafrid, and let him know that I'll pick his group up myself for when he's ready. I'll be calling Darnic to warn him, if any Legion of Coal units are nearby.”


Nestor simply smiles, as he takes the wheel, humming the opening bars from the “Wing Fortress Zone's Theme” from Sonic the Hedgehog 2.




And, far below, Jack the Ripper grins as she slowly scales the bottom of the Wolfen, a pot strapped to her back containing 500 Dragon's-Tooth Warriors, adjusted for to help her perfectly with her plans.






Author's Notes:

And now, the clusterfuck of the third major battle starts coming together. Wooph. Also, Assassin of Black's Master has been revealed. And, as I said before, Erik's familliar with the Fate/Extra games... *chuckles* Good guesses from everyone for who it was, though.


Also, sorry for taking so long with this, but writer's block really was a pain on this chapter. On the plus side, feel free to ask for more backstory if you want. More backstory can be asked for, and the more discussion to be had, the faster I tend to write. Additionally, Kieran's down to the last 3 pages or so for his own chapter, so you'll see his in a few days, tops, as well.

[Kieran]

. . . The first 20% or so of that needs re-sizing - but it's added to the TOC.

[RanmaBushiko]

And edited. Thanks for the skype message warning me. Now if my insomnia would just STOP and let me sleep, I'd be MUCH happier right now. Ugh.