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Chapter Text

In the bright basement of an ornate and stately manor, a magical wooden contraption wrote down a message on a long scroll of yellow paper. The speed and manner it wrote was almost unmatchable by human effort, only a magus being able to reach up to it with the aid of specific spells. Not that any would bother with such menial tasks. After the gadget was done, it lifted the brush it was using and rested it in the air. Not missing a beat, a silvery blade cut through the paper and a hand lifted the parchment up, the other setting the dagger down.

“No matter how many times I see it, I still think that device is unreliable.”

A man dressed in long sleeved white shirt with a blue ribbon, covered by an elegant red tuxedo with numerous black buttons, turned to a younger man dressed in simple priest clothes, a black vest over similar pants, hair and eyes the same dark color. The only flash of color on the man was a golden cross hanging from his neck. The older man smiled lightly when seeing the priest, his blue eyes creaking with amusement at his disciple’s words.

“It is much more reliable than whatever nonsense the common rable use nowadays. What was it’s name again? ‘Fox machine’?” Tokiomi Tohsaka scratched his goatee in false comtemplation. In truth, he hadn’t even registered the actual name of the machine. “In any case, this is a report from the Clock Tower. While it’s still unknown just who stole the first, Lord El-Melloi managed to secure a second catalyst. This as good as corfirms his participation in the war.”

“I’m worried about the fact that there are still two spots left. If there aren’t enough participants...”

“There’s no need to worry, my student.” Tokiomi said breezely. “Once the time comes, seven Masters will be chosen. If not enough mages present themselves, then the Grail itself will choose more participants, regardless of ability. They will inevitably be the weakest of the participants. They will not be important.” Walking closer to his pupil, Tokiomi asked, “Speaking of important, no one saw you enter, right Kirei?”

“No one.” A deep voice interrupted Kirei, turning the two men’s attention away from each other. While Kirei subconsciously stiffened, Tokiomi simply looked around with a confused look on his face. Regardless, the voice continued. “There were no familiars or magical objects, visible or invisible, keeping watch of this mansion. That I can guarantee.”

Smiling to himself, Tokiomi chuckled. “It seems your Servant is rather shy, Kirei. But it’s to be expected of a Hassan.”

Instead of brushing through his little attempt at humor, Kirei snapped his gaze towards the man, who stepped back from the sudden sharpness on those eyes. Sharpness he never saw before.

“Speaking of that. The catalyst that was given to me, the one you gave my father, was meant to summon an Assassin Servant, a Hassan, correct?” His voice was monotone, but on closer inspection, Tokiomi could hear slight apprehension coming from the man. His own eyes narrowed.

“Of course it was.” The Tohsaka Family Head responded, his voice as serious and stern as could be. “The Old Man of the Mountain, while not a single Servant, can all be summoned by the same catalyst. No matter which one, the guarranteed representative of the Assassin Class of the Holy Grail War is Hassan-I-Sabbah.”

“I see... Then we have an issue.” Before Tokiomi could question what he meant, Kirei turned and demanded, “Assassin, reveal yourself.”

Soon after the order, a rising puff of black smoke materialized a tall, armored man. His armor was singed and cracked, missing pieces of protection in his right leg and in the left side of his torso, a chunk of the black armor missing and revealing silvery chainmail covering his whole body. A blue coat, ripped in half, with a charred, furred collar layed over it, pushed back by his elbows, his arms crossed and his black, gauntleted hands gripping them tightly, the spiked fingers scraping against the metal. A cracked helmet of the same color with few gold linings covered his face, but did nothing to hide his agression, his obvious distate, nor the sudden pressure both men felt in the room.

Kirei tensed, his fingers preparing to bring out his Black Keys, the blades hidden in his sleeves, while Tokiomi stumbled backwards, surprise,nay, disbelief marring his features, his jaw nearly touching the ground. This... This was wrong. This was very clearly not a Hassan.

“You- who are-!?”

“I am the Assassin Servant summoned by Kirei Kotomine.” He went silent after that, only to frown at the look he was receiving from his Master. After a while, and a release of an explosive sigh, did he continue, “...My True Name is Agravain of the Iron Hand, former Knight of the Round Table.”

...

...what?

“A-a... a Knight... of the Round Table?” One of the most powerful groups of Heroic Spirits of all of human history, some said to hold as much power as beings from the Age of Gods.

Not only that, but Agravain Who Knows no Wounds, the Deserter and Butcher of the Round Table, responsible for the deaths of half of it’s members, in the hills of Camlann. One of the strongest among them, without doubt!

But why!?

“That is the issue I spoke of.” Kirei spoke up, Tokiomi’s head snapping to his direction. “For some reason, the catalyst summoned a different Servant. One who is, while more powerful than we expected, quite problematic.”

“You summon a Servant who seeks the Holy Grail only to tell him that his purpose in the war is to be a tool for someone else’s victory. You should have expected retaliation.” Assassin spoke in an irritated tone, looking at the right hand of his Master, already missing a Command Seal. His eyes crinckled in disgust before he reigned control over his emotions. “Nevertheless, I have agreed to your plan. I shall aid the Tohsaka Master in achieving victory in the Holy Grail War. For now we must expect a gathering of familiars on the surroundings of the mansion.”

His voice slipped into a lecturing tone, demanding the full attention of both men. “It will be only a matter of time before the other Masters come to watch the estates of the Three Founding Families. I shall make use of my Noble Phantasm to keep watch for any familiars and approaching Masters from other countries. Special attention will be put on the Einzbern’s estate once found, but I hear that the Matous are having a shortage of good magi. You should decide whether it is worth the trouble to watch them.”

Tokiomi stared at the Servant of Shadows, still perplexed by the fact a Knight of the Round Table had been summoned instead of a Hassan. A fact that was unprecedented in the Holy Grail War’s long history. Deciding to look into this situation in a more oportune moment, the Tohsaka Head cleared his throat and began instructing the knight.

"The Matous shouldn’t be a problem, no matter what Servant they summon. Keep your efforts on the Einzberns. In fact,” He turned back to the earlier contraption that had just written down a new report. Taking a knife to it, he handed the paper to Kirei, who gave it to Assassin.“This is the information I just received on the Einzbern Master.”

“He is well known by the Mage’s Association as the Magus Killer. He is essentialy an assassin specialized in killing mages, by using the methods most distant from magic as possible. Long distance shots. Poisoning. Public bombings. Those are some of the lightest things he has done.” The proud mage of one of the Founding Families scoffed. “He has no pride as a mage.”

“And that killer’s name?” Kirei asked passively, but had Tokiomi payed attention, he would have noticed the out of place excitement in his pupil’s voice. Only Assassin did.

“Emiya Kiritsugu.”

Within a brightly lit church, a couple kneeled before an ancient man. The two were dressed in total polar opposites, the man dressed in a black trenchcoat and similarly dark button shirt and sharp pants, while beside him, the woman was dressed in a beautiful white dress, blending wonderfully with her silver hair. They had their heads bowed to the older man before them, dressed in a pale robe adorned with gold, a short beard sprouting from his chin. His voice echoed inside the church.

“The expedition at Cornwall, meant to retrieve the necessary relic for the Holy Grail War, has finally yielded success.” The news brought a smile to the white woman’s face while the man kept his face in the same passive state. The older man cared not for it, simply continuing his speech. “If used as a catalyst, you shall be able to summon the strongest of the swordwielding Heroic Spirits. Kiritsugu.”

He directed his gaze to the man. “This is the greatest gift the Einzbern family could offer you, and you will make good use of it. Kill all six Servants, and bring the Third Magic, Heaven’s Feel, back to the hands of the Einzbern family.”

“Understood, Acth.” The black-garbed man answered.

Acth glanced between the two before speaking up once more. “...The summoning is to be made tonight. I am aware it is ahead of schedule-” The golem forestalled both of their questions with a raised hand- “but we have a time limit in this summoning. It is a part of our agreement.” Sensing the confusion on the two, the golem explained. “Avalon was in fact, not found by the expedition team. But instead given to us by a pair of blonde women who demanded that we use it for the Holy Grail War and mafe the summoning until tonight. Otherwise, they shall take the scabbard back. That is something we cannot allow.”

He began making his way out of the church, the altar behind him holding a box with a blue and gold sheath inside that, despite centuries of unuse, still showed no wear or tear. Even at a distance, they could all feel the power waving off of it.

"Kiritsugu. Irisviel. Gather your information on the other Masters and start your preparations. And be quick.” He spoke to the tense pair behind him, the Mage Killer’s eyes narrowed and tense. “We must not lose the chance to summon the King of Knights.”

With those last words, Jubstacheit von Einzbern left the cathedral.

Irisviel turned to the Kiritsugu, who had walked up to the altar and was observing the unblemished metal before him. She could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers gripped the box tightly, how his eyes and brow furrowed in worry. It relieved a small amount when she layed her arms across his shoulders, a deep breath shared between the two of them. A small smile spread across her face as she spoke, “Come, Kiri. Once the time for the summoning is right, we will rush to do it.”

“It’s best if we lay out the summoning circle already, to avoid any delay. We wouldn’t want to test wether that unknown party is good enough to steal it back.” He slipped into a tone she knew well, when he was talking to himself more than anything, laying out plans and actions as soon as possible. Snapping out of it when she snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, he turned his face to see her raised eyebrow. Chuckling to himself, he turned and grabbed her hand.

"Now, let’s get going, Iri.” He spoke, leading the love of his life down the same hall as the one from their wedding day.

A man of white hair and purple clothes shambled his way to the basement of the house he had been staying in for the past year, his left leg and arm refusing to properly respond to him, both mangled beyond repair. Not even a mage with great expertise in healing could be able to restore the body of Kariya Matou. It was when he took a moment to breathe that he noticed a small, purple haired child freeze to the spot in front of him.

He ignored the constant agony of the worms writhing in his body and smilled at her. “Hi Sakura. Surprised to see me?”

“Your face...”

“Yeah, I ended up losing a bit to the worms inside me. I think I’m not as strong as you.” He praised her with a light chuckle, even that small action drawing agony inside him.

She simply stayed silent for a long moment, staring at him without any emotion crossing her features. Oh, how her empty eyes hurt his soul. A result of the torture Zouken had forced upon her, the same he had put Kariya through. How could you do this to her, Tokiomi? You know what the Matous do to their own, so why!?

His thoughts would have no answer, not until he ripped them out of Tokiomi’s soon to be dead body.

For some reason, Sakura lowered her head a tiny bit, her mouth frowning a little. “You’re turning into someone different...”

Kariya could only shrug. “Maybe.”

“Grandfather says that I don’t have to go to the basement tonight. Something about a ceremony.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m going there tonight.” Feeling her curious gaze, he explained himself. “I have an important job coming up and it will take me away from the house. Might take a while for me to come back. Won’t have a lot of time to talk to you.”

After a long time of silence between the two, Kariya decided to ask her wish. “...hey, Sakura? Once I’m done with my work, do you want to go somewhere? With your mother and your sister?”

The girl raised her hands before her face, gripping each other tightly. Her voice was monotone, but any who looked at her could see her sadness. “...grandfather says that I don’t have a mother and a sister. That I should think that they never existed.”

“...” Kariya felt his hands clench and his nails stab into his palm, his teeth gritting in pure fury. The love that Aoi and little Rin had for Sakura and that she had for them was not something that Zouken could just erase with his damned orders.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down before the worms inside him started acting up, Karyia limped towards the young girl, less kneeling and more falling in front of her. She didn’t mention it, sweet soul she somehow still was.

Pulling her close in a light hug, he amended the question, “Then, once I’m done, do you want to see Aoi and Rin and go somewhere far away? We can play like we used to...”

“I can... see them again...?”

“Yes. I promise.” Her breath sharpened, her eyes softening further. She held tightly to his hoodie, taking a deep breath and some small comfort from his presence.

But as much as they both enjoyed the hug, he didn’t have the time. Letting go of her and patting her head, he shambled his way forward with a resolute, “I have to go now. But I promise. I will come back.”

“Bye bye, Uncle Kariya.” Sakura watched as he left. Sighing once he had passed the door and closed it, Sakura Matou layed a hand on her forehead with a emotionless look on her face, red eyes creasing in concern. “Don’t go dying too soon Kariya.” An older voice left the girl’s throat. A voice no little girl should have. “We require you to get rid of that worm.”

And so, five mages chosen by the Holy Grail initiated their summonings, their catalysts and ritualistic circles readied by chalk and blood, with the sole intent of bringing forth a being formed by legends of peerless renown, tools for their goals, spirits of the dead with their own hearts. The words they spoke were nearly the same, an old ritual modified by humanity’s greed. Summoning five Heroic Spirits, to the mixed reactions of their callers. One was elated, one was relieved, one was scared, one was proud and one was dumbfounded.

But each Master had their Servant, and all were ready for the bloodbath to come, some more than others.

But of the final Master...

In a darkened room in a dinky house, a boy of bright orange hair screamed his lungs out in pain.

“AAAAARRRRRGGHHH!!!” He screamed as his body felt an unimaginable form of pain. His whole body, it all felt like it was in the wrong position. It all burned inside him, pushing blood to vomit out of his body by the buckets.

As he screamed, a head fell to the floor, the man of the couple Uryuu Ryuunosuke had killed in his search for a demon. The son of the couple cowered in fear but did not struggle against his bonds.

The man in the red hood didn’t look like he was going to kill him.

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH-!!”

“Enough.”

Quickly, his mouth was shut by hands covered in black gloves that slapped against his mouth. They gripped his head and slammed it against the ground, Ryuunosuke’s brain rattling inside his skull.

The hooded man then took out a long-barreled gun and pressed it against the serial killer’s forehead, the motion making groan. He seemed to think better of it, though, taking a small knife from his person, the man in the red hood didn’t hesitate to stab down into the insane youth’s neck, ending his pain and missing the whispered, ‘Cooool’.

Getting up and walking towards the small child trembling in the corner, the man took hold of his biddings and cut them swiftly. Once he checked whether the boy could stand, he gave the orphan one command.

“Head down and tell the first adult you see to call the police. Tell them the serial killer that’s been going around has been killed.” His hand squeezed the boy’s shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug.

The confused child listened as his saviour, who seemed like a punishing demon, sobbed against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through this. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.” He began speaking faster, almost babbling incoherently. “I promise. I promise I’ll fix this, I’ll save them. I promise.”

The boy hugged the man back, his mind telling him the man in the hood needed as much comfort as the boy did. Once he was free, he left his former home, the man’s request on his mind. And a track of tears running down his cheeks.

Stepping back, the hooded man shook his knife free of blood and put it back in it’s sheath, his gaze still locked on the door the young boy had passed through, his mind flashing back to memories of a time long past, a time in a world beyond this one. The clicking of heels on the tiled floor brought his attention back to the room, his black eyes landing on his contractor.

A woman with long blonde hair that fell down to her heels, the top of it a truly wild and untamed mess. Red eyes gleaming with untold power stared impassively at him, even if there was a small warmth within them. A white dress decorated with a white collar, matching with the long gloves that covered her hands to her arms but left her shoulders exposed. Golden lines ran through it, perfectly placed at the edges of the intersections of the pure-white costume. Underneath, a long blue dress-skirt hid her legs from the world, yellow tassels hanging above them. A regal princess like no other, not even acknoledging the man who stepped away from her path.

The regal woman stepped torwards the circle crudely drawn in the floor. A low sigh escaped her before she threw a small splash of her own blood into the center of the circle. Removing one glove and raising a pink hand, she spoke a long forgotten chant. One changed for the specific purpose of bringing not a figure of legend, but a man thrown through time and space.

“For it is in passing that you have achieved Salvation. Through it, a paragon of the virtues of humanity is never stained by steel nor blood. A future thrown aside by the foul and petty, the blind and foolish."

"Now, I call upon your simple soul. Infinite is your desire for peace, your soul hunted by the evils of this world and the ones beyond.”

“I hereby declare. In this night, the contract made in forgotten time, by the hands of the witch and the knight, shall be broken and nulled. Boundless is the scope, limitless is distance, of the call of the Grail of Wishes. With this treasure, to the path of the endless saviour, I drag your soul, and by my name, I guide thee to a treasure sought for eons untold.”

“Answer me, in the night of nights. Hero of ancient past. Hero of distant future. Hero from beyond the stars! Come to this place of death and arrogance and conquer the calamities within! For salvation is at hand!”

“Come to see, the fruit of your work! The point of your existence! HUNTSMAN!”

The circle shined brightly, static filling the air with a multitude of magical energy unseen in modern human history. A blade of light sprouted from the circle, shimmering with power unknown, shaking in place. The vibrations increased to a point where it seemed to become multiple blades switching places, before shooting off in mach speed, destroying the entire wall.

The two watched the single point of light in the night sky of Fuyuki fall like a shooting star and brightly illuminate a part of the city for a single second, it’s light reaching the skies for a moment. Any Servant or Magus in the city would have surely felt it, but the two did not care.

It was time.

And in the place the blade landed, a flash of light iluminated the entire alley. After it subsided, a young, blonde man fell from the air, landing roughly on his back.

Staggering to his feet, he looked around at the darkness around him, as lost as a child in a strange place. With a trembling lip and a choked gasp, he spoke.

“Blake?”

Nothing.

“Blake?”

Nothing. Only the cold walls answered, closing in around him.

His breath quickened and his eyes widened, his whole body trembling as he stumbled and fell to his knees, gripping his head in despair, muttering all the while.

“No. No. No no no no no no no no. Not again, not again. Not again... not again.”

...He died again... He had been brought to a new world again...

...He had to kill again... to save another world again.

So... tired...

His arms fell onto the ground below, the grey tiles jumbling toghether as his vision swam. He was just so... tired...

...Wait.

Tiles?

His eyes blinked out the tears as he inspected the ground again. There were tiles beneath him, covering a small area before giving way to cement. That same material made up the walls around him, two buildings which the space between was an alley where trash bags and bottles littered the floor. It was then that he noticed the bright light in the end of the alley. Shambling out of the darkened place and never noticing the shadowed flames that were inching out of his sword, the young man desperately wished that the light was what he was hoping for.

Stumbling on some trash bags at the end, he fell with a loud clang, flattening his face on the cement of the sidewalk and startling the few passersby out late at midnight, before they quickly ignored what was clearly a homeless man who had too much to drink, considering the horrid smell coming from him. Rising to his feet, the metal of his gauntlets ringing against the sidewalk, the young man looked up and gasped at what he saw.

Blinking lights, tall buidings with glass windows, roads filled with traffic signals stopping a couple of cars and crosswalks with no one but an old lady and a young girl helping her cross it, lampposts and posters for upcoming movies and so many other things he thought he would never see again.

A modern city.

His eyes widened and his breath caught on his throat, tears prickling in their corners, as he turned to look at the scenery around him, uncaring of the weird looks he was receiving from the pedestrians around him. A wide smile spread across his face as his body, for once in a long time, finally relaxed. It wasn’t the City of Vale, that he could tell, but it was still a city. Much better than most of the things he had seen in his time hopping between dimensions.

Skyrim, The Capital Wasteland, The Mojave. The only place he could say that matched this feeling of comfort was...

Camelot.

He frowned as he felt all the earlier exhilaration leave him, his mind reminding him of better times. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to supress his roiling emotions and the tired voice at the back of his mind, Jaune Arc raised his head and stared at the full moon hanging above him, ready for anything this world could throw at him.

Chapter Text

“I ask of you, are you my Master?”

Kiritsugu Emiya couldn’t stop his jaw from lightly dropping as he stared at the Servant he summoned.

With Avalon, the sheath of Excalibur, he had expected to summon the King of Knights, Arthur Pendragon, believing that the Boy-King that wields the Holy Sword would be the strongest of Saber Servants. But instead of a young man, the one before him was...

A very mature woman.

Her hands were covered by beautifully ornate glauntlets, her right one holding onto a massive lance with spiraling spikes. Her torso and shoulders were covered by a very bulky, silver armor with a few touches of two emblems, a red dragon on her right pauldron and a golden dragon on her left. Her lower body was covered by an elegant skirt that imitated the petals of a flower, almost like a white lily.

She was taller than he expected, being taller than Irisviel and almost reaching his height. Yet, her vibrant green eyes, strangely entwined with a golden light,  and smooth face, soft yet still firm like a ruler made very clear that she was a woman, not the young King he had hoped for. Did he summon the king’s mother somehow?

“Are you... King Arthur?”

“Yes, that is how history remembers my name.” She clarified, nodding her head. “However, my True Name is Artoria Pendragon, daughter of Uther Pendragon. It may be confusing, but know that I pretended to be a man for the sake of my kingdom. I come to you in the form of the Lancer class.”

“l-lancer?” Kiritsugu stammered, feeling a surge of anger as she explained why she was known as a man, before composing himself. “But aren’t you supposed to be the wielder of Excalibur? You should have been of the Saber class.”

“Ah.” Artoria breathed out, before her lips settled on a thin line. “Perhaps history has deigned not to record it, but the fact is that I threw away Excalibur and returned it to the Lady of the Lake two years into my reign as king. After, I took up the lance Rhongomyniad and used it until the end of my days, at Camlann.”

“Rhongominyad...” Kiritsugu muttered as he brought a hand to his chin, searching through his memories to try and remember the weapon. “The lance that felled Vortigern. Not Excalibur,  but a powerful weapon nonetheless.” Shaking his head, he raised his eyes to Lancer once more, watching as she gazed upon him. “In any case, I am your Master for this Holy Grail War; my name is Kiritsugu Emiya. This is Irisviel Von Einzbern.” He gestured to the silvered-haired woman who aproached Lancer with a smile.

“Welcome to the Einzbern Castle, King of Knights.” She bowed from the waist before rising. Feeling a smirk coming, she couldn’t help but tease. “Or... is it Queen? He he.”

“Iri...” Kiritsugu sighed.

“Thank you for your warm welcome, Lady Irisviel.” Artoria bowed as well, lightly similing at the tease. “And I would prefer if you still called me king, or just Lancer if you would.”

Coughing into his fist, Kiritsugu cut in, much to Iri’s displeasure if her pout was anything to go by. “With introductions out of the way; Lancer, we will be moving to Fuyuki for the Holy Grail War in a few days time, enough for us to prepare ourselves for the war. Irisviel will give you a tour of the castle grounds if you want.”

“I think we will take you up that offer.” She nodded to him slightly before closing her eyes. In an flash, her bulky, silver armor dissapearing in motes of light, revealing an elegant blue dress lined with gold and embroidered with small white lillies. But what made him stare was the, frankly, outrageous chest currently being restrained by the fine silk of her clothes.

How did anyone mistake you for a man? 

Quickly darting his eyes away when he felt Irisviel turn to him with a dangerous gaze, he looked to the eyes of his Servant once more. “What do you mean we?”

Instead of responding, Artoria placed two fingers on the edges of her mouth and whistled.

And with thundering roar, a massive, golden lion materialized behind him.

“Oh.”

Tohsaka Tokiomi bowed to the golden armored man currently sitting in a stone throne in the middle of a summoning circle.

“King Gilgamesh of Uruk, King of Kings, thank you for answering my call for you. Welcome to the lands of Fuyuki.”

Gilgamesh looked down at the magus, boredom filling his gaze. Just another vermin trying to cling to my brilliance.

Releasing a small breath, the King of Heroes lifted his gaze to look at the other occupants of the room and saw two priests, the older of which bowed his head to him, whilst the youngest kept his eyes down. Lifting an eyebrow, Gilgamesh silently questioned the presence of who where clearly the overseers of the war.

“These are Kotomine Risei and his son, Kotomine Kirei.” Tokiomi explained, keeping his head bowed. “Risei is the overseer sent by the church and Kirei is a fellow Master who shall be aiding you on this war, King of Heroes.”

Gilgamesh’s eyes lightly narrowed at that, his anger trasparent as the room’s temperature lowered. “You would call me here from the Throne of Heroes in order to fight your silly war, and still have the audacity to use such tricks in order to guarantee victory? My power alone will be more than enough to defeat the mongrels that are brought to fight me.” The King declared, his sneer showing his displeasure.

Before any much needed punishment could be brought down on the fools, a voice cut througth the air. “Calm yourself, King of Uruk. You shame the other kings of this world with this erroneous display.”

Gilgamesh sneered at the voice. “Show your face if you are the Servant meant to aid me, mongrel.” Though his gaze was directed at the younger priest, his words were for the one who hid in shadows. “I will not deal with a coward.”

In time, a puff of black mist gave form to a black armored man leaning against the wall near the young priest, a frown on his face as he looked at the golden man with a disapproving gaze. Risei Kotomine stepped away from the Servant, standing next to Tohsaka as the two Heroic Spirits glared at each other with enough intensity to warm up the room to dangerous levels.

“Other kings of this world? Silly worm. I am the only king of this world.” Rising from the throne that was brought with him, Gilgamesh crossed his arms and sneered at Assassin. Golden portals appeared behind him, bathing the room in a beautiful light and illuminating the suddenly terrified mage and overseer, though the youngest simply moved to stand in front of both. The King of Heroes did not care, his eyes squarely locked onto the dark pupils of the killer. After releasing a quick laugh, the King waved his hand and dispelled his Noble Phantasm. “A fool like you would never be worthy of my treasures. I won’t taint them with your filthy blood. Now stop wasting my time.” He pushed past the black knight as he walked forward, intent on finding something to entertain himself in this world.

Perhaps the priest with hollow eyes would be interesting...

Agravain stepped away from the wall, the long and thin sword that had formed in his hand dissapearing in a puff of smoke.Tohsaka Tokiomi released a small breath of relief, clutching his cane before walking out to follow the King of Uruk.

And from the dark shadows behind them, several blades sang as they were drawn from their sheaths. Only to pause as Assassin held up an armored fist clenched tight. “Hold your tempers, Enforcers.” The Traitor’s voice rang in their blank minds. “Now is not the time.  That Arrogant King of Avarice shall be dealt with. Sooner, rather than later.”

Through the entire exchange, the hollow eyes of Kirei Kotomine stared blankly ahead. Not once, had the face of the heartless priest changed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!”

Kariya Matou stepped back as the shadowed Servant roared and screamed before him. He knew that imbuing the summoning chant with the Madness Enhancement was a bad idea born less from the fact that he was too weak to properly maintain a Servant, and more because Zolken just wanted to see him suffer and die from the massive upkeep that the Berserker class inevitably demanded. But he hadn’t expected this.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!”

She gripped her head tightly, her nails digging into scalp and making blood leak from her head. Her whole body trembled and shook, her voice shaking the room.

Finally, her eyes settled on him. Rage and malice radiated from her gaze, driving Kariya back as she snarled. Her hand shook as it settled on the hilt of the sword at her hip, the blade now glowering with murderous intent, sending a spike of terror up his spine. Her bloodshot eyes grew wider and her pupils shrunk as hot puff of air hissed out of her mouth, and Kariya brought his right hand forward, the three marking in his hand already shining. But when she drew her sword...

All her bloodlust was gone.

She just stared at the blade held in her hands in  bewilderment. But soon, her gaze was filled with despair.

Screaming in panic, she threw the sword away and covered her face, falling to her knees and dispersing the shadows that had surrounded her body. And in what was the biggest surprise of the night for both the Magus watching her, she released a small, choked sob.

Her shoulders shook and her voice cracked as she wept on her knees, her face obscured by the plated gauntlets.

Zouken grimaced at the Servant, turning and walking away as her sobs continued past the moment he closed the door to the basement of the Matou Residence.

Glancing between his Servant and his Command Seals, Kariya debated wheter he should use one just to calm her down. But it went unneeded as the woman composed herself and rose from the floor. She kept her head down as she walked towards him.

Stoping before him, the woman kneeled. “I apologise...” She croaked, her throat hoarse. “That wa-was not a pro-per showing... for a knight...”

“Master... If you will have me--- I will fight for you in this war.”

“Uhm...” Kariya hesitated, feeling very uncomfortable with the situation after the display. But remembering the reason for joining this cursed war in the first place reinvigorated his determination, and with a stern gaze and a firm jaw, he spoke. “Then, I will have you be my sword, Berserker.”

“Then, allow me to present myself properly.” She rose and slapped a hand against her breastplate, the simple action dusting off her armor and revealing what was once pristine white metal to now be scorched and cracked, with a large hole in the left breast. The rest of her armor wasn’t in a much better state, with red lines forming cracks on her leg armor and a whole pauldron just missing from her left shoulder, instead replaced by a tattered brown cloak.

Raising her head and shaking her auburn hair, her chocolate eyes met his. “I am the Spawn of The Black Witch of Britain. I am the Knight of Treachery, Killer of King Arthur and last owner of the Crocea Mors. My True Name is Velvet of Caerbannog.”

High up on the rooftop of Fuyuki City’s most glamorous hotel, a lone man watched the blinking lights of the city below, the lives of countless people quietly moving along the flow of destiny. And he saw too, as he downed a cup of noodles, the laughing conqueror leaving a trail of sparks in the sky. Good old Iskandar. Never change. He thought to himself, the thin, bright yellow raincoat that covered his head and body bunching up a little as he chuckled over the macedonian king’s unending amusing displays.

The loud clicks of stilleto shoes brought his attention back to Earth, his genuine smile turning into a frown for a split second before returning into a wide grin of obviously fake cheer. Downing the last of his food and nearly choking on it, the man turned back to the beautiful blonde princess making her way to him with a frown and a glare. He internally sighed as he saw it, knowing that it would be trouble.

“Votos.” No matter how alluring her face may have been, her tone would have made any man weep.

“Yo.” Was his less than magnanimous response. One she didn’t like if the vein popping on her forehead was any indication. Pushing through it, he stated, “It’s unusual for you to be the one to call of these meetings. Even more so for you to actually show up.” She frowned even harder as he spoke, not at his words but what she knew he was going to say. She could tell from the malevolent grin he couldn’t contain. “I assume something went wrong.”

“...” She took a deep breath to calm her fraying nerves, one delicate hand rising in the air in a stalling motion. Just in time to stop the knife that nearly reached the hooded man’s head.

The red-hooded killer froze in place, his body tilted the way of his Master. Sheathing the knife and turning away, the killer had to reign his free arm in, as it attempted to bring his second weapon back to Votos’ head. Before he could control himself, or lose his leash, golden chains wrapped around his body and dragged him back to his Master.

With a quick glare to the killer, she finally deigned to speak again. “The Saber Servant was summoned. Instead of Siegfried of the Nibelungenlied, the Knight of Fianna, Diarmud Ua Duibhne has taken the slot of the Servant of the Sword.”

That brought surprise to his face. With a raised eyebrow, he simply asked in confusion, “What about the other classes? I know Rider and Archer are still the same, but what of the rest? Are any of them open?”

His only response was a quiet shake of her head. Feeling dread rising in him, it was his turn to take a deep breath before slapping his hands together in a loud clap. “In the name of everything that your humans think is holy, tell me Caster isn’t the only spot left.”

All he got in response was an uncharacteristic wince on her face. Turning away from the woman with a silent tsk, he gripped his shadowed face with a thin and frail hand. She came to his side, making no move to comfort him or the killer laying on the ground behind them. After a few moments of deep breathing, the man turned to the princess with the fake smile once more. “Well, that leaves us with just her, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her cold and curt answer belied the emotions roiling behind her eyes. The sheer panic in them.

“Welp. Not to worry.” In all honesty, he didn’t know who he was saying that to. Perhaps to the both of them. “After all, it isn’t the Servant that matters. We just need him to get to the Greater Grail. After that, we win.”

The Charisma that rung in his voice fueled both of their spirits with Hope. Enough for the princess to turn away and leave, calling her Servant to her side, the two dissapearing in the night. Left to his thoughts, Votos Ladre found himself muttering an old saying he heard so long ago. From the lips of a young, foolish boy.

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.

A loud rumble was accompanied by an even louder groan.

Jaune was not having a good start in this world.

Walking around for a few hours hadn’t gotten him much more than an encounter with the police who immediately demanded that he drop his sword and armor and a subsequent chase when he refused to abandon his sword despite letting go of his armor, and an abandoned cloak he tied at his hip to cover his sword.

Seriously, he had never had such a bad start before, there was always something happening to immediately throw him into trouble. And yes, he was complaining from the chance to not having anything to do this time around. After all, unlike every world he had been thrown into in the past... this one was peaceful.

Like, truly peaceful. There was no dragon crisis, or an invasion of power armored genocidal maniacs. Not even a boy destined to be king summoning him for a bit of extra help.

Feeling his stomach and legs complaining once more, he layed down at a nearby bench in a secluded park. Sighing as he covered his eyes with his left arm and the other hanging down, a feeling of helplessness settled over him. For the first time in a while, he was truly and utterly lost.

Usually things immediately jumped at him and threw him into the next apocalypse he had to avert, but now there was nothing. No battles to fight, no monsters to kill. Making a weapon like him utterly useless.

Was there anything he could do?

Maybe he should make a food stand; he knew he made good food. The Courier and Arthur could attest to that. That life wouldn’t be anything like Camelot or Skyrim or the Capital Wasteland... But maybe he could just take some time to just... rest...

...

A rather strong breeze passed through the small park, making the former huntsman-in-training shudder from the cold air. He closed his eyes and started rubbing his arms to get some heat in. It was why he didn’t notice the sheet of paper coming at him until it smacked him in the face. Lifting it up with a groan, his jaw lowered as he saw what it was, going starry-eyed as he stared at the front page. Where a caped man fought a mustache-twirling villain.

Well, there’s an idea, at least.

His spirits slightly buoyed, Jaune jumped up and threw the comic away, his mind reminding him of Grognak the Barbarian comics he had read at Vault 21. He streched his body and prepared for another long walk of trying to find something he could do. Maybe a bank roberry to foil.

But before he could dart off, he felt a sharp pain in his right hand, making him fall on his ass. It burned painfully for moment, his wince more from how sudden it was and how unprepared he was for it. Removing the glove that hid the formerly sizzling limb, he stared at the back of his right hand in utter bewilderment.

There were three red markings in his hand, each glowing a vibrant red before settling into a more muted color. They were familiar markings, but there was an addition that he had never seen.

Two crescent moons hanging above a dragons head.

Pulling out his sheathed sword, he quickly messed around with the scabbard and soon expanded the metal sheath into a pristine white shield. With the same crescent moons displayed on its front. What’s going on? That’s my family’s symbol but why did it show up in my hand? Why is there a dragon?

Before his confusion could give him an aneurysm, a magical circle filled with intricate patterns showed up in front of him and started glowing like the sun. He quickly rose and drew his sword, fire, ice and lighting dancing across the blade. However, when the circle grew brighter, the chaos of his sword dimmed, the magic within being sapped by the symbols. His energy went with it, his body tired from the last few hours of restless walking.

And when he lowered his weapon, the light vanished, leaving a curtain of smoke in its place. And within it, he could see a shadow.

“Summoning me in the middle of the street, where any foolish human could see. It seems I have been brought to the living world by an incompetent Master.”

Dispelling the smoke with a gust of wind, the shadow revealed itself to be a young woman.

She wore a loose black dress that covered her whole body with an opening in her stomach and cleavage, the garment accentuated by perfectly symmetrical blue etchings. A white cloth hanged to her shoulders, golden lines running in the certer of it, forming the images of spears at their ends. In her gloved hands was what seemed like an mixture between a staff, a spear and massive axe.

“I am Servant Caster, the Black Witch of the Lake and Queen of the Fae.” Her face was covered by a black veil that flowed down from a black crown with blue jewels neatly resting on her head. And yet, he could feel her piercing gaze, her cold blue eyes staring into his soul.

“I am the one who ended the Red Dragon...” Blue eyes that widened as she looked upon him, surprise, but mostly panic, building within her.

And he knew why. Because he knew her.

The chaos of his blade returned in full force as he snarled at the witch before him, the magic flying out of control and scorching the very ground he stood on. He lunged forward and lined his blade with her chest, the witch desperately raising her weapon to stop him. The world shook as their blades met. And it shook once more. When Jaune Arc screamed the witch’s name.

“MMMOOOOORRRRGGAAAAAAANNN!!!!!”

Chapter Text

The sound of ringing steel violently tore through the night’s silence.

Hopping backwards and summoning a barrier between herself and the rampaging knight, Morgan winced as he simply barreled through it like it was a wall of sandpaper. Blasting away the flames sent her way with a heavy gust of wind, she quickly had to lean back as the chaotic sword cut the air before her. She tried freezing his feet to the ground but he simply slammed his sword into the ice and shattered all of it.

He brought the sword back up in an arch, the blade sparking off the floor before they transformed into flakes of ice, a wave of cold spikes rising against her, meeting a wall of her own. Before she could take a breath, a wave of fire broke through and forced her to plant her staff on the ground, parting the flames with a well practiced wind spell. However, the knight wasn’t one to stay idle, his sword already in line the moment the flames were shot, and her parting of which revealing the blade thrusting for her head.

She slammed her staff onto it, diverting the weapon to the side. Her blue eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, a rare scowl showing on her face as she prepared to counter him, only to leave herself open for his other hand, now having abandoned the heater shield, to slam a silver, snub-nosed, revolver-looking gun with a very thick barrel against the side of her head. She could have recovered her footing easily if he stopped there, a non-magical atttack from modern weaponry being neigh useless on a Servant, but the maniac opened fire with the barrel right beside her head.

And no amount of being above modern weaponry made her immune to deafening sounds right beside her head.

Staggering back with her head ringing and her right ear bleeding, Morgan was too overwhelmed to stop the man from kicking her gut, launching her back until she hit the floor. Shaking her head and using a few select spells to heal herself, she pulled herself up with a strong gust of wind. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the knight approach. She brought the staff upward, holding it in two hands and, with a quick incantation, stabbed it into the ground and formed two runes, one below her and one in front.

The one in front glowed in dim light before a wave of black flames tinged with blue rushed forward, scorching the very planet in an insult to Gaia. They were met with a wave of much clearer flames, but tainted with a strange red, the two fires coalescing together into a mighty pillar of destruction that would have killed hundreds of humans and left even a Servant incaple of surviving without very specific skills. But when the flames died down, all there was in the place the knight had once been was a thick pillar of ice.

Turning her eyes up to the full moon hanging in the sky, Morgan raised an eyebrow at the silhouette before it, before it descend with sword in hand and primed to stab through her body. But even a Caster had enough Agility to dodge something so telegraphed.

Jumping backwards, she watched as he slammed against the earth, his sword stabbing clean through and into the ground below. His eyes soon turned back to her, still lighter that usual, before they widened as he noticed the bright light that emanated beneath him. He tried to escape, not knowing what the hell she was trying to throw at him but knowing it couldn’t be good. But no matter how quickly he directed his Aura to his legs, he couldn’t get out of a spell that was already in effect.

In the blink of an eye, his legs, torso and shoulders were encased in a cubicle of ice, restricting him in place, his body awkwardly bent forward. His sword was stuck even harder, encased by ground and ice together, not even rattling when he tried to move it and his arm. His eyes turned to her, noticing the light shin of sweat on her forehead and the sharp glare she sent his way, one that he returned as best he could when he was essentially bowing from the waist to her.

She released a weary sigh, her eyes closing for a second before they looked directly at his. Laying a hand on her hip, she disdainfully spoke, “I am well aware of just how much bad blood there is between the two of us.” She admited with a troubled expression, visible even through her veil. But soon, it was replaced with another glare meant to chill his body. “But was it really necessary to try to kill me like this? You could have ruined everything. Honestly, are you an Avenger or something? To put a grudge above the Holy Grail War is ludicrous.” She approached him as she spoke, not noticing his confused and narrowed eyes, her weapon held lazily and her posture, while not relaxed, much less tense than before.

Of course, she went rigid the moment she felt the abhorrent increase in magical energy in the area.

Looking to the bottom of his icy encase, Morgan began feeling the lightest feeling of panic as she saw steam rising from it. Before she could even have the chance to dispell his trick, the area beneath his feet suddenly exploded, great gouges of fire rupturing from the earth, unmaking the prison that held him. Had she not known the man, she would have expected him to die from the stunt. But, as she brought out her protective wards in the way, she knew that he would be more than fine.

But even the protections of Morgan Le Fae were not enough to stop the Mana Burst-propelled, man-shaped rocket that slammed it’s fist in her stomach. She would have screamed in pain, had the air not been driven from her lungs, only a wad of blood coming out of her mouth, her body being launched away and rolling on the floor until her back hit the base of a flowerbed, her head nestled between the petals and her impending doom coming for her.

He reached her quickly, her throat releasing a short groans of pain. She squirmed on the floor, in a way a queen like her never should, driving her into a frustrated fit of anger, her head rising to yell at the man before her. She stilled when the sword slammed down beside her head, stabbing into the grass and flowers and it’s blade reflecting her wide eyes. 

“It’s been... a long few months.” He finally spoke to her. His voice was cold, yet hot. Emotionless, yet filled with venom. “I never even thought of you again. You were just another problem in my life. To think I would get the chance to punish you. What joy.” Worse of all, his eyes were turning from the same cold blue as her own to a foul, putrid red.

That more than anything was what drove her into a panic. Something about it all just felt WRONG. “Wait, wait, wait, you can’t! You’re going to throw the wish away! You could use it to save them!” Morgan quickly yelled, anger re-entering her voice despite her best efforts.

The knight just narrowed his eyes even further. “Save them? Save who? And what wish?”

“The wish from the Holy Grail!” She screamed in exasperation, feeling confusion herself. “If we win the war, we can use the Grail to undo everything, to save it!”

“The... Holy Grail? From Listenoise?” He asked in confusion. “But why would it be here? And save what? You’re not making sense.”

“Save...Camelot.” She choked out, realising the problem.

He has no idea...

He flinched, eyes wide as he stared at her. “Camelot? What do you mean save ‘Camelot’? It shouldn’t have to be saved, you were the only one trying to hurt Arthur. That contract we made should have stopped you from interfering with his bussiness!” Suddenly snarling, he pressed down harder on his sword. “We had terms!” He yelled, the red completely overtaking his pupils.

“I didn’t do anything! Even I couldn’t go against a Geas!”

“Then what happened!?”

“Velvet...” She hesitated, fearing his reaction.

“Tell me!” He screamed as he pushed the sword further into the ground, not noticing the red glow of the markings in his hand nor the way his voice boomed impossibly in the night.

After a brief struggle against the Command, Morgan relented, sighing as she closed her eyes and laid her head down. “Velvet rebelled eight years after I banished you from Camelot. She and a band of mercenaries fought Arthur at the hills of Camlann, where the Geat King Beowulf killed him with the Crocea Mors and where she too, fell, killed by her own sword, after she tried to protect Arthur for a reason I can only guess at.”

“...What?” The man quietly whispered as he staggered back in shock, his eyes, now back to their normal color, wide and shaking as he stared at her. Jaw agape, he trembled before her, shaking his head. “B- bu- but why? Wh- why would she? No. No. NO! NO! None of this makes sense!” He screamed as he grabbed onto his head, the sword in his hand igniting in an unruly mess of elements. “NO! No,no,no,no,no,no,no,NO! Camelot was supposed to be safe!”

Soon, his eyes turned to her rising form, a steaming hiss released from his gritted teeth. “You... it was because of you.” Brandishing his sword, he charged at her while roaring like a demon. “IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Bringing up her staff and wielding it like a lance, Morgan prepared herself for what was likely to be her premature death. Eye twitching, she only had one thought.

Truly, being summoned by him of all people was bound to end in disaster.

But before their weapons could once more meet, a great rumbling filled the air and numerous bolts of blue lightning striked the space before them, halting both Servant and Summoner.

“Alalalalalalaie!”

Something slammed into the ground between them, lifting a grand cloud of smoke. It soon dissipated, revealing a grander crimson chariot, pulled by two black bulls that screamed of Divinity, adorned with spiked, red and gold helmets. Sparks of lighting were discharged from the chariot for a short while before dispersing and revealing a tall and muscular red-haired man with leather armor and a cape the color of blood. “Both of you, throw down your weapons!” His words boomed, demanding obedience and respect through the sheer strength of his voice. “For you are in the presence of a king!”

“I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors.” He spoke, ignoring the squawk from the witch and the shocked look the black haired boy that accompanied him had. “In this Holy Grail War, I have manifested as the Rider Servant. Hear me, and listen to my propos-”

He suddenly cut off, his eyes widening for a second before he quickly raised his arm to shield his face, blocking the bullet aimed at his face. Somehow, it managed to penetrate his skin, giving a startle to Morgan. Lowering his slightly bleeding arm, the King of Conquerors furiously stared down the blonde swordsman. “Not only would you completely ignore my request, you would go so far as to attack so dishonorably? That is low, even for an Berserker.”

Bending his arm and resting the barrel on his shoulder, the swordsman sneered. “I’m not interested on any proposal you can make. I only want her.” He finished, pointing to the woman at the other side of the chariot.

Iskandar looked to her to see her reaction, only seeing a sense of aprehension and awkward discomfort. “Someone you wronged in life, Caster?”

The witch winced, grateful for the veil that covered her reaction. “More than you could imagine, King of Conquerors.”

“Hmm.” Iskandar scratched his beard while glancing between the two, wondering if, somehow, he got on the way of either a revenge story or a lover’s spat. “Either way; Berserker, while I can’t claim to understand your reasons to do this, I can’t allow myself to simply let you kill Caster like this. For I wish to cross swords with every one of the Servants of this war.” Puffing his chest and drawing his sword, Iskandar grinned and manifested the lightning of his weapon. “So, I will defeat you here and now.”

Bringing his blade and gun forward, the blonde frowned. “If I have to go through you to get to her then I will.”

“JAUNE WAIT !”

Both men were surprised by the interruption, the sheer despair in the voice of the one who interrupted them driving them away from the inevitable violence. Even more so when they realised it was the witch herself who had called out for the blonde.

“Jaune, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but if either of us die here then we will lose our chance to fix everything that went wrong!” She pointed to Rider before continuing. “There are five other Servants like him that were summoned to this war; if we defeat all of them then you can use the Grail to wish for anything! Wish to stop me from banishing you, from ruining everything, you can even stop me from being born if you want.”

“I am your Servant, and you are my Master. I am to be your sword. So, please...” She pleaded, her voice almost cracking as she removed her veil and stared directly at the man she had wronged so long ago. “Don’t throw our only chance away.”

Both stared each other in the eyes, one pair confused and surprised and the other pleading. After a long moment, the one belonging to the knight moved to the confused King of Conquerors and his Master, who was leaning away from the blonde in pure shock. “...You said your name was Iskandar. Rider of this... Holy Grail War.” The call out made the attention of the King of Macedon turn his attention to the now blue eyed man gazing sharply back. “What she said... is it true?”

Iskandar, with a frown on his face glanced between the two. He had never imagined a man of the modern age being capable of fighting a Servant, much less winning. But from what Caster had said, he might not even be from this era. Grinning wildly from the chance to fight one more great adversary, Rider answered the man with all the enthusiasm in his chest, “The Holy Grail War is more than true young man. And you have been chosen to be that woman’s summoner, her Master. Now that you know that we are enemies, what will you choose?” He asked of the sharp-looking man.

His response was to raise his gun and fire wildly at the macedonian, distracting him for long enough for Morgan to cast a multitude of runes meant to strenghen the body and sharpen the mind of the knight.  Soon, he managed to reach the chariot and slash down with the ignited Nameless Blade of Camelot.

Now, The First Knight of the Round Table and The Witch who Brought Britain’s Damnnation fight as one.

/-/

Artoria watched as Kiritsugu and his daughter Illya clung to the mane of her lion, who, funnily enough, was named Saber.

Her Master didn’t seem to react much to the lion’s constant bouncing, a simple and gentle smile gracing his face, in complete contrast to his daughter, who whooped and cheered as the oversized king of beasts ran faster than a horse , dodging treetrunks and branches, never letting a single one touch a hair of his riders’ head.

“Something caught your eye, Lancer?” Irisviel asked as she entered the room with a teaset.

“Kiritsugu and your daughter are outside playing with Saber.” Artoria answered, her eyes never leaving her Master’s serene smile. “I must be honest, I expected him to be a lot colder, but seeing him interacting with Illyasviel is making me change my mind.”

“Well, knowing Kiritsugu, I can understand where you’re coming from.” As she sat down, the silver-haired beauty lightly smiled toward the Servant. “Though, from your expression, I guess what happened during your summoning is still bothering you, no?”

“Well... just a little.” Artoria reluctantly admitted. “I can understand since I pretended to be a man to everyone but the Knights of the Round, but it was rather embarassing when the two of you kept staring.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Irisviel waved her hands in front of her, her smile turning apologetic. “It’s just... finding out that King Arthur was a woman this whole time, well... it is a bit of a shock.”

“I know, it is why I have not taken any offense. Though I wonder if I have offended you somehow.” She crossed her arms as she looked back out the window. “Kiritsugu seems to be deliberately avoiding me ever since I was summoned. Today was the first time we spoke to each other, and it was solely to ask Saber to play with him and Illya.”

Irisviel warmly chuckled. “Illya’s ploy, most likely. She has him wrapped around her finger, trully.” Her smile faded as she poured herself a cup of tea. “Though, I imagine he is avoiding you out of anger.”

“For me being a Lancer instead of a Saber?” The eyes of the king gained a dangerous look as she stared at the homunculus. “Or for me being a woman?”

“No, of course not.” Irisviel barely reacted, simply pouring sugar into her tea. “He feels anger towards the people around you.”

Feeling Artoria’s questioning gaze, Irisviel explained. “People who would force the role of a king on the shoulders of a young girl, forcing her to throw everything away for the sake of the kingdom... and the fact you accepted it so easily.”

“I see...” Frowning at the man through the window, she responded to the homunculus. “Then he ought to remember the precarious position of Britain back then. The entire island was set to be destroyed by Vortigern’s machinations. Someone needed to unite the people and fight back. The responsability fell to me as heir of Uther Pendragon.”

“I know. And he does too.” The homunculus shot back with a stronger tone than before. Her shoulders were tense as she stared into the mixing tea. Her eyes were somber and lifeless, her voice quiet as she whispered, “Kiritsugu Emyia and the Heroic Spirit Artoria Pendragon shall never see eye to eye.” She closed her eyes, a sad smile on her lips. “Truly, he gave up in even trying.”

Artoria kept her eyes on the woman as her mind processed the words. Giving up... so easily? Perhaps it’s for the best. A part of her mind whispered. A man does not obtain the title Mage Killer by being particularly honorable. Even so, she felt something ought to be done. She just didn’t know what.

Suddenly, a long buried memory came to mind.

“Would you have simply given up, walked away, and left the people to their fate?”

Her heart clenched as his words came back to her, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her as they often did. Pushing it down and controlling her turmoil, but never, never again locking it away, Artoria felt a smile crept across her lips as an idea came to her.

“He’s given up, huh?” She asked to no one, a simple mutter as her hands drew closer to the windows’ lock. “Well... Too bad.” She said before throwing the glass panels open, a gentle and cold breeze coming through them.

“Eh?” Irisviel turned in surprise, confusion settling inside her as she looked to the Servant who, at the moment, was climbing the windowsill while supporting herself on the walls connected to it.

“Because unfortunately for him...” The blond woman turned, a wide, yet almost melancholic smile stretching across her features. “I’m an idiot who can’t help but act.” She finished before jumping off the third floor window.

Irisviel could only blink at the empty space left behind, genuine shock and confusion rooting her in place. The sound of impact on the snow outside spurred her to walk up to the window and see Artoria walking off towards Kiritsugu and Illya. The vessel of the Lesser Grail found herself sighing with a gentle smile on her face as she shut the windows to block the snow and wind. Well, try your best, Artoria.

/-/

Kiritsugu breathed heavily as he slowly walked with a hunched back. He wasn’t so much as out of breath but trying to control the absolute thunderstorm going on inside him.

For as much as he managed to control his reaction when riding the lion, his stomach had not appreciated being so rudely disturbed. Coupled with the horrible sleep he had, filled with dreams of knights and war, adn a strangely familiar yellow haired, faceless knight, and with him and Iri sleeping in  seperate quarters( a necessary action to prepare his heart for what was to come), he had the official worst morning possible.

His dreams were usually nightmares about the things he had done, all the sacrifices and mistakes ha had made that lead him to become the unfeeling machine that was the Magus Killer. He imagined the change was Lancer’s fault; he had read taht Masters and Servants could see visions of each others lifes during sleep. And of course her life would be all about knights and chivalry. Even if it felt she was uncaring about most of it. Almost like she was... too broken to care.

A yell from ahead took him out of his thoughts. “Come on, Kiritsugu!” Of course, Illya just had to not be affected at all. Almost like riding a nearly seven-hundred pound lion the size of a warhorse was second nature to her. “I wanna keep playing while you’re still here!” She yelled from atop the lion, the beast seemingly laughing at his expense. The mount moved slowly now, making sure not to upset it’s rider, even if it didn’t matter considering Illya wanted it to go as fast as possible.

His little girl had taken advantage of his exhaustion to essentially cheat in their new game. She was already two chestnust buds found ahead of him. But he was so sick that he couldn’t even argue that she only found the first because of the lion pointing it out to her. Damn thing was completely against him. His eyes soon turned low, sweeping the snowy floor for his target untl it found something that he could say was definately cheating if he counted it. But she did cheat earlier...

Ah, to hell with it...

Before he could point out the little wingnut bud he had found, someone beat him to it. “Hey! I would say that I found one!”

Father, daughter and lion turned in surprise at the new arrival, a blond woman kneeling at the height level of the bud he had found. Kiritsugu could only blink as he saw Lancer watch her lion bring the little Einzbern towards the Heroic Spirit. A million question ran through his head. Why? Is there an intruder? Are we in danger? Is she keeping watch? Then why is she so... relaxed?

“But that’s not a chestnut bud.”

Lancer faked an astonished look, her eyes dramatically sweeping to and from the toddler and the bud. “Oh. Well then, it seems I’m still at point zero. But how about this?” She smiled warmly as she tilted her head to look at the girl, who mimicked the motion. Bringing a finger up, Lancer said, “If I find a real  chestnut bud, I get two points. How about in the next ten seconds? If I don’t-” She opened her hand and closed her eyes, forestalling Illya’s complaint- “You get two points. That’s double of what you have now, isn’t it?”

Illya beamed with joy at the chance of getting even further ahead, not noticing the trap Kiritsugu could smell from a mile away. His suspicions grew when Illya turned around, her face set in a smug smile and her eyes closed with the overconfidence only a child could have, and Lancer smirked like the cat who had caught an unsuspecting canary. “You’re never going to find one so soon. I am the undisputed champion of this game! I won’t have missed any buds so-”

“Found one.” Lancer interrupted.

“WHAT!?” The young girl screeched as she turned around and looked to the outstreched finger of the older woman, pointing to a thin branch in the very next tree. A branch so high up on the trunk it was near impossible to see.

But not to a Servant.

The young girl dismayed at being outplayed, throwing a tantrum only a child could after being cheated out of sweets. Kiritsugu knew that was exactly how she would act; he had once done the same a year ago, only for her to refuse to talk to him for a full day. Sighing as he approached the Servant, Kiritsugu tried to ask her why she was here, only to be interrupted again, this time by Illya running up to her first and pointing an acusing finger at the woman.

“YOU! You’re Kiritsugu’s friend, aren’t you!? You cheat just like him!” She accused the blond woman, who simply smiled and bent her knees to look at the child in the eyes.

“Now, now.” She waved a finger like a teacher chastising an unruly student. “Do not blame me for making my preparations ahead of time. Instead, notice that I made an impossible wager that would obviously end in your benefit alone. And that I would not have made it had I not been ready for it. In case anyone tries the same with you in the future, be ready for them to try to cheat you out of your rightful earnings.” She spoke with a kind yet stern voice, the young girl listening in rapt attention and comminting the lesson to memory. Until she blinked and realised she had no idea who this woman was. Tilting her head, she asked the lady for her name.

“Artoria.” She answered thruthfully. “My name is Artoria Pendragon.”

“Artoria...” The girl tested the name on her tongue. Smiling at the woman, the girl tilted her head and asked, “Are you here to help Kiritsugu with his work?”

“She is.” Kiritsugu cut in, frustration rising in him as he couldn’t see the reason for Lancer to be here. Kneeling and picking up his daughter, he put her over his shoulders and began walking back to the manor, Lancer and her lion following a step behind. The woman entertained some questions from the girl, before they soon dried up adn the father once more cut in. “We will be travelling to Japan with your mother. And when I get back in two weeks, we will have our next match. I promise. But Mama...” He took a deep breath as he prepared to drop the worst news possible...  “...won’t be coming back for a while.” And still failed to deliver them.

Coward. Can’t even tell her she won’t ever see her mother again.

“Right. Mom said I wouldn’t see her again.” Kiritsugu flinched when he heard her say that. To so casually say that she knew her mother was walking to her death, not a hint of worry in her voice. It hurt too much to bear. And she kept talking. “She said that even if we don’t see each other for a while, she will always be beside me.” Just as Kiritsugu couldn’t handle it anymore and set her down on the snowy path on the outskirts of the Einzbern manor and tried pulling her in for a tight hug, she made him pause with her next words. “But... I had a dream last night. I was sitting in a garden with a nice man who was making tea appear out of the air! And it tasted like ice cream!” She cheerfully said to his stunned face. “He said I would definately see Mama and Kiritsugu again. Said it was a promise from him, and he never broke a promise.” She spoke with a smile on her face, feeling the kind of confidence only a child could have.

“I see.” Laying a hand on her head, he rubbed the hat of his little girl with a small, strained smile on his face, certain memories coming to the forefront of his mind. “Just remember that... dreams don’t always come true.” At seeing her nod, but noticing that she didn’t bother taking his words seriously, he simply sighed and took her to the lion and set her atop it. “Well, why don’t you and Saber play for a bit longer before going inside? Lan- Artoria and I need to have a little talk.” He waved her off as the lion strutted away, Lancer coming up beside him with her arms crossed and a gentle smile on her face. “Why did you come here?” He asked, jumping straight to the point.

Turning to the black-clothed man, she wrily asked, “Would you believe if I said I just wanted to play?” She shook her head at his narrowed eyes glaring at her. Rolling her own, she patted him in the back with a bit more force than necessary. “Calm down. If it will help your nerves, there are no enemies, natural or magical, in the area. And, being completely honest here...” Her eyes gazed at Illya’s back, a strange daze filling her eyes. “I really just wanted to participate.”

Call him childish, but after the nightmares he had because of her, Kiritsugu couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “You could have had more time to play if you hadn’t accepted that shitty destiny.”

“I know.” She answered with a hint of mourning on her voice, something that took him by surprise. “It’s another thing I seek to fix with the Holy Grail. But until we have won the war, there is little we can do. Speaking of...” She placed her hand on her hips and gave him flatest glare he had ever gotten. Not even Natalia had given him worse. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

He recoiled a little, both from the look on her face and the tone of her voice. He hadn’t expected to be looked at like a misbehaving child. Sighing, he turned away and bagen walking towards the path Illya and the lion had taken, but still chose to answer her. “I don’t have any need to interact with you. We don’t have to get along to win the Grail.”

She sped up until she could block his path, standing right in front of him and stopping his march. “Uhuh. Right.” She rolled her eyes at him, a vein popping in his head. This brat was half his age, yet she acted like he was the kid. “And the all the things Irisviel told me about your opinions on my decision to become King are definitely not clouding your judgement.” Bloody hell, the sarcasm was strong on this one.

“If Iri already told you why I’m doing this, why ask? You wanted me to admit it?” He shook his head before his lips settled into a frown. “Forget it. Stop wasting time with nonsense and focus on your part of the plan. Iri will pretend to be your Master and I will take out the other Masters through any means necessary. That is how I work. Someone like you, who would throw their whole life away for the sake of people who you don’t even know, could never understand the necessity of the things I have to do.” He spilled the words out like venom leaving a cobra’s fangs, his anger at the chivalrous, hypocritical killer in front of him clear as day.

She glared back at him, her own anger permeating the air, before she took a deep breath and stepped back. Her shoulders lowered as she tilted her head, her eyes looking him straight in the eyes. “True.” She conceded. “I don’t have any way of understanding why you do what you do. But I do share your dream. I want to save Britain from the fate that befell it.” And that’s it. I’m not listening to anymore of this. Just as he made to walk off in frustration, however, she continued. “But... I also want to save myself.”

She shook her head lightly, a serene smile on her face clashing with the melancholy on her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand, I don’t exactly regret becoming King; the people needed a saviour and I was simply the best person for the job. Well, second best...” Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow at the little mutter at the end, but before he could question her on it she continued, “But... I want to be something more as well. To let myself feel the full extent of my emotions. To...be happy.”

Kiritsugu took a moment to pause and gaze at the solemn look on her face, hope and sadness warring in her eyes. He couldn’t help but let his shoulders untense a little as the woman surprised him with her words.

Even long before summoning her, Kiritsugu knew that the only possible wish for King Arthur would be to save Camelot. An idealistic, stupid and so similar wish to his own. To give happiness to others, to people they never knew, just because it was their duty to the world. And, after meeting her, after seeing the truth behind the legend, he had only been further assured that she wouldn’t bother to seek that same happiness for herself.

It stung the leftovers of his pride to be so wrong. But most of all, it shamed him for expecting her to be so simple. No one was that simple. Nothing was. And yet, he still hated the ideals that she stood for, the ones who gave her so much pride yet still led to her downfall. He wouldn’t let go of that anger. That dissapointment. He just couldn’t.

Rising his head and looking at the cheering form of Illya, he questioned his Servant with a more gentle tone. “Is that what you were doing here? Trying to find what makes you happy?” At her affirmative hum, he turned back to her, the melancholic smile back in her face, her eyes fixated on the joy radiating from the little girl. “Did... did you want to have one of your own?” He hesitantly asked, a strange nervousness running through him.

She shrugged her shoulders and answered, even if her eyes never moved to him. “One or two... Or maybe six.” He recoiled a bit when she said that last part. That... That’s a lot of Illyas. What poor bastard would need to achieve that? “I could have had a family of my own, but I didn’t get the chance. More like I threw it away.” She sighed wistfully. “If I had told him... If only I hadn’t been such a coward...”

A moment of silence followed, Kiritsugu trying to decide if he should drop the conversation or see if he could find the right words to say. Trying to joke around, he asked, “Who was the lucky guy? One of the Knights of the Round?”

“Hmhm.” The smile returned, her happy face now filling the air with the kind of positive energy it felt like he would get diabetes just for standing in her presence. “Jaune was the only one who ever held my affection, even if the dense idiot never noticed. And to think Kay kept trying to push me to him despite my constant cowardice.” She let out a hearty chuckle, her emerald eyes glinting with amusement and, when Kiritsugu looked hard enough to find it, pain.

But something else stuck out to him. “Who’s Jaune? I recognize Kay as your foster brother but that other name is unfamiliar.”

“Ah.” She paused, her eyes widening for a moment before lowering to the ground. She slightly turned her body away, one arm gripping the other. “Jaune was... he was the first of the Knights of the Round Table. A more familiar name might be... The Knight of Compassion?”

“Oh, so the Knight of Compassion was a real figure?” Kiritsugu rubbed his chin, looking up to the sky and not noticing the way Lancer’s body tensed in it’s entirety. “Interesting. I thought that he was just a myth. It seems there are even more things about your time that history got... wrong...”

His voice trailed off as he felt a sudden danger coming from beside him. Turning around quickly, his hand almost pulling out a hidden gun he always kept on his person, but he froze as he saw the incredulous and downright furious look she was getting from the woman.

“What do you mean ‘myth’?” She demanded, her voice as dangerous as her eyes.

“Uuhhh... well, its just that...” Kiritsugu recoiled away from the woman, his body ready to flee at the moment she moved. He was far too taken aback from the sudden shift. Composing himself with a cough, he answered in the gentlest way he could. “It’s just that the leading theory is that he was more of a metaphor than a real person. The tales of him paint a picture of a far too perfect being to be real. Coupled with the fact that there isn’t a lot of proof of his presence in Brita-”

That seemed to set her off even more. “Lack of proof?” She stalked forward with gritted and snarling teeth, her anger blinding her to the fact she was forcing her Master back up against a treetrunk, the man looking for any way to get out of this situation. “What about the Wasteland Survival Guide, the teachings of Ruby Rose Ironwood and Moira Brown that revolutionized our agriculture and saved our people from famine? What about the revisions of our sanition and medicine, the roads built to connect all of the land?”

“After everything he brought with him when he came to our lands, you’re telling me that my people have simply forgotten. His. Name?”

Kiritsugu pushed off the tree and met the angry eyes of the royal woman, pushing down the surprise and panic that had first consumed him when she got like this. Bringging his right hand up, he warned her, “Do not make me waste one of these. Compose yourself.”

Artoria breathed heavily as she stared at the three red markings. Taking a moment to control her breathing, she stepped away from the man and held tightly to her face, covering her eyes. Once she managed recompose herself, Artoria controlled the rolling rage within her, before turning once more to the now confused Magus.

“My apologies for my reaction, Master.” She bowed to the woman while closing her eyes, regrets and admonishments running through her mind. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“I wasn’t, but your apologies are accepted.” Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow while staring at her, trying to discern just what the hell just happened. “But still... why did you react so strongly?”

The King of Knights winced at the question, even if she knew it had been coming. Releasing a deep sigh, she decided to answer her Master, to relieve the strain on their relationship. “The matter is ... a difficult one for me to discuss. It’s that... He was... taken.” She responded, her arms holding tightly to each other as her body shook. “Right when I realized what I felt for him, he was ripped away from me.”

“...”

“...”

“Did he...” The Magus Killer paused, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.  “...What happened?”

“Morgan.” She sneered the name of the witch who ruined her life. “Morgan used a spell, a Geas contract, to banish him from Camelot.” That elicited a sharp intake of breath from the man beside her. “My wish for the Holy Grail is to stop her from reaching him, to confess my secrets. To see... whether the life I wanted can be achieved.”

Kiritsugu Emyia kept quiet for a long, awkward moment. His rage at the ideals held by this woman was even further abated, pity taking it’s place. Something he had never imagined he would feel for someone he despised. But maybe... maybe he shouldn’t hate her for holding them. Coughing slightly to bring her attention to him, he spared her a small smirk. “Well, then our course of action is clear. Let’s win this war and get you your man back, Lancer.” He reveled in her embarrassed face, the quiet ‘Please don’t say it like that’ that was quietly whispered. “And, since you can’t go into spirit form, we will start that by getting some clothes for you to use in Fuyuki.”

Artoria crossed her arms and gave the man a flat look. “Why do I feel like that’s an excuse to dress me up?”

“As Iri would say; Just your imagination Lancer. Just your imagination.”

/-/

“This is the way to the Tohsaka residence.”

Kotomine Kirei turned as he heard his Servant’s voice. To be capable of summoning a Knight of the Round Table had come as a surprise for him. Such a powerful Servant for someone without any desire. What irony...

Beside Assassin stood an armored knight with a slimmer frame, who had his head bowed towards them. With a nod from the Servant, the black armored familiar sped towards the forest connected to the mansion belonging to one of the founding families.

“Are you certain this will work, Assassin?” Kirei asked while watching the knight move more even more fluidly than he expected.

“No plan is flawless, no matter how detailed it is. That is something I learned quickly.” Assassin spoke in a hazy tone, almost like he was lost in thought, before refocusing and straightening himself. “However, considering the inate arrogance of magi, most of the other Masters will be fooled by this action.” He turned back to stare at his Master, his serious gaze felt even through his helmet. “The only one I imagine won’t be tricked so easily is the Magus Killer.”

“Kiritsugu Emiya...” Kirei breathed out the name. Something about the man spoke to him in a way he couldn’t understand. Something like a familiarity.

Coming back to his senses, his eyes narrowed at the Servant. “I will say that I am surprised you were able to come up with this plan. The ‘Double Summon’ Skill is a rare one, and usually an advantagious one, but I expected the insanity of the Berserker Class’ Madness Enhacement would become a detriment to you. To see you acting so normally is... strange.”

“My ability to act as a Berserker is more from my actions than any true insanity on my part. To turn your back on your oaths and betray the king you so loyally followed for a decade. To slaughter the people who fought alongside you, who trusted you, without a hint of remorse. Those are the actions of a man who went insane a long time ago.”

“However.” He quickly spoke, cutting through Kirei’s understanding. “There is still something wrong about my situation. I can feel the madness of my Second Class Container creeping at the back of my mind, but instead of clouding my vison, it seems to be held back by something. What it is, I do not know. Being as cognitive as I am now should not be possible, even with my will to stay as I am.”

Kirei did not visibly react to his Servant’s words, simply filling the information in the back of head. Noticing the lack of a draw of magical energy from the, presumably, now dead familiar, Kirei turned away and started making his way back to the church. However, that did not mean his mind wasn’t troubled.

Did something happen to the Holy Grail?

/-/

Collapsing on her knees from sheer exhaustion, only not falling on her face thanks to holding herself on her staff, Morgan watched as Rider loudly laughed as he rode his chariot to somewhere, hopefully, far away from her.

“Finally... I thought... I was going to die...”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

She turned her eyes to her Master, glaring at him with as much heat as she could bring to her gaze. To her displeasure, he looked completely unimpressed.

“I faced demons, dragons and angry older sisters before, Morgan. You don’t really compare, especially on your knees.”

“I wouldn’t be so tired if it hadn’t been for you!” She shouted at the cretin. “Because of you trying to cut my head off earlier, I’m thoroughly exhausted!”

“Yeah yeah, keep yelling won’t you...” He picked up his discarded shield and flicked it into a sheath. Settling the mechanical amalgamation on his waist, he sheathed his sword and gun before walking up to her, yet refusing to offer a hand to pull her up. “Now, I think it’s time we get some explaining done. And I mean mostly you.” His eyes stared colldly at her as his lips settled on a thin line, his jaw clenched tight and his arms twitching minutely.

“Tell me about this ‘Holy Grail War’ Rider mentioned.”

Morgan sighed as she sat on a nearby bench and began explaining. “The Holy Grail War is a ritual held here in the japanese city of Fuyuki. Seven Servants, shadow copies of human legends, are summoned by seven mages. Their classes are Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Berserker and Caster.” She rattled off the Classes, counting with her fingers and pointing to herself once she reached her class. “Once six Servants have died and only one is left, the Holy Grail will recognize them as the winner, and both Master and Servant will be granted a wish for whatever they desire.”

“A wish for anything they desire...” His eyes clouded for a second and anyone could feel the desperate yearning on his next words. “And... it could save Camelot?”

Morgan only nodded.

“Right...” He took a deep breath, before focusing his attention solely on her, the anger returning to his face. “Now, more importantly.”

“Why was I chosen for the war? And why did I summon you of all people?”

The woman shrugged one of her shoulders, leaning back on the bench to rest her tired body. “The Holy Grail is said to choose the people who need the wish the most. As for me being your Servant... It’s most likely because of the catalyst you used for the summoning.”

“Catalyst?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“A relic relating to the legend of the summoned Servant, a connection to bring them from the Throne of Heroes.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “But I didn’t use any catalyst; I didn’t even intend to summon a Servant. What could I have possib”-

“Yourself.” She interrupted, her eyes intesily staring at his. “You were the catalyst for my summoning.”

“...What?” He stepped back, complete confusion overtaking his face and tone. “But shouldn’t I have summoned someone from the Round Table instead?” He asked while throwing his hands in the air.

Morgan sighed. Couldn’t she have been summoned by literally anyone else? “From what little I have been able to gather, I was the last Servant to be summoned. Meaning all the other classes already have their representatives. The Caster class is consistent of famous users of the arcane arts, and aside from Merlin, who is far too difucult of a spirit for you to summon without intending to, there weren’t any on the Knights of the Round Table.” She turned to him, an impassive look on her face. “So, you got stuck with me, and I got stuck with you.”

“And how do I know you’re not lying to me?” He asked as his hand fell to his weapon, tension filling the air once more.

She hid a quick swallow of fear. “The Command Spell you used earlier.” She quickly pointed to the markings on his hand, one of them having become faded and smuged. “Those are Command Seals; by using one of them, you can give me an order to do anything you want. And I don’t have the choice but to obey.”

“So, everything you said has to be true...” His eye twitched even as he sighed. “Wonderful. Instead of someone I can trust, I get stuck with you.”

“Trust me, I hate it just as much as you. Now,” she rose to her full height after dusting off her dress, replacing the crown onto her hair. “We ought to go somewhere more private to discuss our plans for the upcoming battles. So, lead the way to your house, Master.”

“...About that.” He averted his eyes focusing on the lake near them and not her dangerous, narrowed eyes.  “I uh... kind of don’t have anywhere. I got back to this world just a few hours ago.”

Morgan’s eye twichted.

/-/

Waver Velvet sat in his bed, given to him by the Mackienze couple he had hypnotized, his hands tightly clenching his bedsheets. His eyes were locked onto the wide back of the Servant he summoned with his teacher’s catalyst. The great King of Conquerors Inskandar, Servant of the Mount for this Holy Grail War. He remembered the feeling when he first layed eyes on Rider, the feeling of being so strong that it didn’t matter what Servants were his enemies, he would finally get the respect he deserved. He had felt invincible.

Now, it wasn’t even a Servant that tore down his confidence.

“I had imagined that by now you would be pestering me about that fight.” Rider spoke cassualy, not once taking his eyes away from the war documentary he was watching. “If you want to understand, then you will have to speak to me.” And for as much as his words were firm, there was a small softness to them, an understanding of the young mage’s feelings.

Swallowing the lump on his throat, Waver finally asked, “Why didn’t you kill them?” For as much as his topor may have taken some of his energy out of him, his frustration and indignation spoke louder, giving him the power to shout, “I mean, the Rider Class is supposed to have really powerful Noble Phantasms so I can’t understand why you would run from that fight! We could have taken out Caster right after she was summoned!”

Rider on his case simply closed his eyes as he considered the best choice of words. “Hmm. While there is still much you need to learn about war, and situational awareness, I am proud that you can admit your own ignorance.” Rider turned off the war documentary that he was watching before looking to his Master, who had crossed his arms and glared at the Servant, even if it came across much more as a pout than anything intimidating. Walking up to and plopping down on the mattress and almost sending his Master flying up, Iskandar posed a question. “Boy, do you know what a M.A.D. situation is?”

Blinking in surprise, and secretly relieved he hadn’t gotten another pelt on his forehead, Waver uncrossed his arms and held his chin as he tried to remember the acronym. Snapping his fingers when the words came to him, Waver said, “M.A.D. stands for Mutually Assured Destruction. It’s a situation where two parties are in some form of conflict and both are assured to be destroyed at the end.” Waver responded with a small smile, before it formed into a panicked, wide eyed look. “Wait, is that why!?” He yelled to Rider.

The mountain of a man simply nodded. “Correct. I felt that even if I finished off Caster, it wouldn’t end with us as victorious.”  Seeing the surprise laden on the boys face, Iskandar quickly continued. “Make no mistake, If I had used my Noble Phantasm, or maybe even Via Expugnatio at it’s full strength, then I would have easily killed Caster. But the moment I did, her Master would have done the same to either of us.”

“But how?” Waver coudn’t help but question, utterly lost. “Sure, he was way too good on that fight, too much for him to be a normal human, but even if he is an experienced Enforcer or an Executor it wouldn’t matter to a Servant like you, right?”

“Yes.” Iskandar answered with a nod, his shoulders rising with pride at the acknowledgement of his strength. Even then, he kept talking. “The people of the modern world are far too weak compared to the ones from my time. It’s the reason that the younger the legend of a Servant, the weaker they tend to be. And when one is summoned as a Servant, their power is increased by a variety of factors. But that doesn’t matter. Not with what I’m sure you noticed, and are ignoring, about him, and not with that sword he was carrying.” Iskandar finished somberly.

Waver felt a small shudder go through him as he remembered using Master’s Perspective on the earlier pair. He wanted to see the stats that Caster had and, while they were unusual for a Caster, it hadn’t been what had scared him.

I couldn’t see a thing. I wasn’t blinded. It was all static. But... I know what I saw...

He has Servant Stats...  And Noble Phantasms.

Lowering his head and grabbing his chin, Rider went over his memories of that quick fight. “It was too powerful to be a modern creation. I doubt the magi from the Mages Association could have made that thing. It’s magical energy and capabilities far surpass any Mistyc Code I can imagine.” His jaw tightened as he arrived at a conclusion. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more I am certain.”

“That sword was a Noble Phantasm. A Legendary Sword of the highest calibre.”

Chapter Text

In the dead of night, a dinky warehouse opened it’s metal doors for an unexpected delivery. Unexpected to the city but not to the proprietor of the storage house.

Smoking on a tail pipe, a tall, aging man with a scar running down his left eye and dressed in an immaculate white and gold suit waited as five trucks entered his walled property. They parked to the side of the building, the drivers and passagers moving to the back of the vehicles and opening the backdoors, revealing at least a dozen unmarked crates and just as many men inside every truck. They left their uncomfortable seats and, after stretching, began taking the crates inside the ware house. All under the watchfull eye of their boss

Once all the trucks had been emptied and the crates moved inside, one of the men walked up, one who had a gold brooch in a black tie that ended on a diamond shape. Once reaching the smoker, the man pulled out a sealed envelope and presented it, having it violently snatched out of his hand. He rubbed his fingers, wincing in pain. The older one just scoffed.

Opening the envelope, the man felt his eyebrows drawing down with every word he read, even going so far as ripping the paper in anger once he finished. Balling up the shreeded paper and throwing it down with all his strengh, he started stomping it into the ground while yelling, “DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT! HOW THE HELL DID THAT DECREPIT WRINKLED BASTARD MANAGE TO GET THAT BRAT ON HIS SIDE!!??”

Punching the pillar in front of him that supported the stairs to the upper floor catwalk, his fist landing right beside the head of the trembling man who delivered the report, who was now very much regretting his decision to join this group, trying to tune out the yelling from his boss.

“WE ALREADY LOST THREE SUPPLIERS AND TWO SAFEHOUSES! IT WILL TAKE YEARS TO GET EVERYTHING BACK!” The enraged mob boss turned to the nervous men around him. “WE’RE THE BIGGEST IN MIYAMA TOWN!  WE’VE BEEN FLEECING MONEY FROM THOSE IDIOTS FOR YEARS! ANYONE WHO TRIED TO GET IN OUR TURF IS IN THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER!”

He glared around the building, at the people tightly cluching rifles and handguns, at the ones keeping their heads down as they worked on opening and dispensing the merchandise, at the hooded one who sat atop a high stack of crates. “SO HOW IN THE HELL ARE WE GETTING HANDLED BY A KID IN A COSTUME!?”

“I mean, it’s not that hard.” A strangely modified voice cut through the man’s ranting. They all looked right at the one who was sitting on the crates, the mob boss just now realizing that he hadn’t come with his workers. Their eyes widened as, in unison, they all screamed the name of the recent terror of Fuyuki City’s criminal underground.

“SHIELDER!!!???”

The man in a white dress shirt and straight black jeans rubbed a gloved finger inside his right ear, his eyes, the only visible part of his face, closing in a wince. They opened again with a flat glare towards the yakuza around him, his voice exasperated and slightly annoyed. “If you yell any louder, I’m probably going to go deaf.”

Rising to his full height, his presence imposing trepitadion on the men around him, the young man simply stretched his body. After, he lazily layed a hand on his hip while the other gesturing to the ones below. “Look, I’m on a tight schedule so let’s cut a deal. You all give yourselves up to the police or...“

His hands swiftly ripped out a metal scabbard out his waist, a strange sword held within, and flicked the mechanical contraption into a sturdy, pristine white shield, the one that had felled countless of their own and gave him his namesake. “...I beat you all and you get arrested anyway.”

The boss of these people, clearly defined by his clothes, screamed, “GET HIM!!!” while bounding up the stairs.

A sigh escaped the man. “Always like this.”

Chrouching low, Shielder shot off, flipping away with a burst so strong that shattered the top two crates he once stood on. He turned mid-air and held up his shield, protecting his body from the hail of bullets shot his way. The laws of the world set once more and drew him down, his legs bending as he landed in the middle of the masses. Wasting no time, he flashed forward and buried his fist in the stomach of one of them before taking the falling handgun and fiercely throwing it at someone’s head, the target falling unconcious. Sweeping his right leg and hitting the knee of someone else, making him immediately drop low and to the ground after a jab that broke some facial bones. And once more, the vigilante sped away into the crowd, knocking two men down before turning around and blocking a series of bullets.

Charging the gunners, who panicked at the inhumanly fast demon approaching them and sprayed their shots, accidentally hitting their own allies and only stopping when Shielder dropkicked the first before manuvering himself to land a single long leg on the ground, the other sliding across the floor and sweeping another of the shooters facefirst to the ground. Pushing off with his bent leg, he used the momentum bringging his fist to the face of the last one in the group.

But there were so many others. All either firing at him or approaching.

Blasting off and leaving a crack on the ground, Shielder made for the stairs while knocking out anyone who stood in his way, not with well placed punches and palm strikes like some of them had expected, but with pure brute force. Legsweeps and kicks shattered ankles and sent men flying, a fist burried itself in stomachs and broke jaws, the flat of his shield knocked out just as many, breaking a path for the caped crusader. And the whole time, his eyes stayed on the catwalk.

The mob boss flinched away from that gaze boring into his soul before grabbing one of the men beside him who had been watching in terror. “DO SOMETHING!!” He screamed in the older bastard’s mustached face.

He spluterred in the face of his employer’s wrath. “D-do what!? I’m just a driver!” He babled before being shoved down the stairs, yelping in pain every time he hit another step. His body only stopped when he hit the unmovable legs of the white devil glaring at the chief atop. His cold blue eyes drove despair into the man’s body, despair he hadn’t felt ever since he was a brat, before they moved back to the wheezing old man at his feet. Crouching low, he layed his free hand on the chest of the man, a bright white light shining for a moment as the old fogeey stopped wheezing and blinked in surprise. All his pain was gon-

His thoughts cut off as he was picked up by the hodded vigilante and thrown at the ones who were chasing him up the stairs, knocking down at least five and impeding the path of the rest.

The fine-clothed boss whimpered in fear as those eyes turned to him again, his feet already taking him as far away as possible form that white fiend, the sounds of what little resistance his men could put up against the onslaught echoing behind him. He managed to sprint through a door and hide under the desk, trembling in place as he held his head in his hands. Until his eye caught a glint in the dark.

Outside the room, Shielder sighed as he casually ducked under a punch and blocked a leg before upper cutting the jaw of the one in front of him, the man lifting off the floor for a moment before being kicked hard enough to take down half a dozen others with him. Most of the people who saw it trembled in place, so scared of attacking that they inadvertently gave the vigilante a brief reprieve.

Shielder took the time to breathe deeply, his mind running in the background. Should have been some twenty knocked out and at least another tem too injured to get up. Half of them and the boss still up. He raised his shield as another tried to punch him, the criminal breaking his own hand on the metal surface. Before he was finished yelling in pain, he was pulled back by someone who blured forwards, a silver blade fluidly nicking his covered nose. Shielder weaved between the stabs and swings, knocking the sword away but losing the chance to retribute when the new opponent hopped back and out of his range.

Huh. So there’s still swordsmen in this era. Skilled too. As his right foot moved an inch to the back, Shielder smiled beneath his mask. But nowhere near Ruby’s or Arthur’s level.

The two stared each other down, impassive blue eyes staring at cruel brown ones. “You’re impressive, little boy. But you insult me by not drawing your sword.” The older man smugly taunted.

The younger of the two simply shrugged. “I want to arrest you, not kill you.”

Insulted by the mercy of his target, the killer moved forward, intent on cutting through the target of his contract. He sped fowards, ducking under the shield bash before leaping up in a rising slash sure to kill any without the appropriate protection. The target moved, likely to escape but his sword moved faster.

Only to see it shatter on the vigilante’s sidechest before his back leg blurred and slammed into the swordman’s head.

All the men in the room stared as the killer their boss had hired espcifically in case the caped crusader came, flayed through the air and slammed into the ground with a broken nose and many less teeth than he had earlier, gushes of blood spearing out of his face. His opponent lowered the leg that had teleported to the downed killer-for-hire’s face. He looked as unimpressed as ever.

“HEY! JACKASS BRAT!” A loud and obnoxious voice called from behind him, Shielder’s eyes narrowing as he heard how confident it sounded. I don’t like this...

Turning around, his eyes widened for the first time this night as he layed his gaze upon the leader of this gaggle of idiots.

Bearing a tooth-filled grin almost as wide as the rocket launcher that rested on his shoulder, the madman pulled the trigger. “EAT THIS!!” He screamed, his voice lost in the multitude of screams of terror and preentive pain coming from the people behind the silent vigilante. Smoke burst out of the back of the long pipe, the explosion of the exhaust completely destroying the door behind it and rattling everything inside the room. The missile wildly travelled it’s way to it’s target who was calmly drawing the sword, fire billowed out of end of the rocket, leaving a trail of suffocating smoke in it’s tail. Soon enough, it reached it’s target, sure to leave a massive explosion and puverize the little Captain America wannab-

For a moment, there was no sound.

In the next, the missile hit.

The explosion tore down the wall and the roof close to it, the metal catwalk bending and falling with a loud rumble into the ground. Loud coughs could be heard from the other side of the smoke.

The bossman stared at the ruined area with a vicious grin on his face, his eye widening more and more as he grew assured that the bastard was dead. Laughing loudly, he held high the green RPG with both hands, shaking it as he yelled in euphoria. “I DID IT! I KILLED THE BIG BAD SHIELDER! I AM THE BES-"

The weapon of military ordinance was violently ripped out of his hand. It slammed against the piece of the wall behind him that hadn’t been destroyed earlier. Slowly, very slowly turning around with unimaginable levels of fear and trepidation inside him, his shaking eye saw a long, rust-yellow sword embedded in the weapon. Before panic could consume him further, he doubled over from a great impact in his gut, blood and spit ripping out of his mouth and staining the muscular bare arm buried in him.

As consciousness faded, he saw cold blue eyes staring at his falling form, their owner none the worse for wear.

As the rest of the criminals gaped at the man who left a rocket explosion unscathed, the vigilante turned to them with a simple question.

“You guys ready to surrender yet?”

An hour later, as the Police Department of Fuyuki City entered the scene and took over fifty prisoners in one night, two men stared at the multitude of law enforcers and cowering yakuza.

The older between them whistled at the sight. “When you said you could do this alone, I thought you were about to get your ass kicked.” The man ran a hand across his dirty blond hair, his chest puffing with pride as he looked at the younger man beside him. “Even had a whole speech ready for when you came back.”

The younger simply removed the hood that covered his golden hair. “Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary.” He turned away from the scene to glare at the other man. “But tell your father-in-law that I would like to know if his next targets have rocket launchers. I don’t appreciate the soot, Fujimura.” He raised his cloak, the once pristine white now marred by dust and dirt.

Mr. Fujimura, because Oum knows what the drunkards real name was, awkwardly laughed in the face of the young vigilante’s ire. He was right to be apprehensive of the boy; Fujimura being one of the few Raiga had sent to follow the boy as he tore through their competition and expanded their territories. After all the young man had done for them, everyone in the Fujimura Clan knew that they should be thankful of his work.

Especially the food.

Raising his hands placatingly, the family man responded, “I’ll tell the old man. He will remember it. To be fair, I don’t think even he expected this.” He muttered out.

Shielder winced in shame. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.” He mumbled before taking off the caped cowl and folding it under his arm. He started walking down the alley they were hiding before remembering some thing. “Just remember to keep me updated on that psycho.” He called out to Fujimura before climbing the stairs of a nearby apartment.

For a moment, as he hopped from roof to roof with a specific destination in mind, Jaune Arc sighed as he thought, ‘What the hell happened to my life?’ 

Working with a criminal group wasn’t exactly a first experience for him, hell, it wasn’t even the second time he meddled with this kind of work. But he and that witch had run into a problem very early in this war.

They were flat broke.

It was only because of his and the witch’s experience with seedy underworlds and an honest metric ton of luck that they managed to get a referral with the local crime boss. And for as much as it surprised that witch, he hadn’t been too reluctant to get to work with the group. Of course, with certain conditions. But so long as they were met, he was fine taking out the ol yakuza’s competition.

And it came with very useful rewards. Not only had Raiga solved their money problem by selling his Septims from Skyrim and the coins he had gotten from Camelot and France to pawn shops for their gold content, he had even found them a place to stay. And from what the old man told him, he and the witch would have been set for life just from selling those.

Wonderful that he had a lot to ask of the old man.

An abandoned building they could buy to serve as a magic workshop for the witch, a bussiness to launder the money necessary for them, information on foreigners appearing in Fuyuki for sketchy bussiness, and primarily... a city wide investigation for the serial killer that had been going around.

That last one was brought up by the witch. Aparently, the reports stated that whoever it was had been drawing crude circles in blood. And the witch recognised them as the one needed for the Servant Summoning of the Grail War. The few images he had seen had been more than enough to make him agree to hunt them down. No matter who they were.

He cut himself off from his thoughts as he landed on a particular rooftop. Taking hold of the caped hood around him and removing it from his shoulders, Jaune shook off the dirt from it, for as little as it helped. Damn thing would have to be washed for tomorrow. Bundling up the magical fabric and tucking it under his arm, he opened the door to the fire escape connected to the building and made his way down the stairs. Even from here I can feel a little chill...

Quickly reaching the bottom, Jaune hid the cloak and his weaponry on a false wall that had been installed specifically to facilitate his escapedes. Fixing his dress shirt and taking out the blue tie he had kept in his pocket, the knight cursed as he spent a good five minutes fixing the thing to his neck. Taking a deep breath after he finished, the vigilante pushed down any soreness he felt and pushed the door.

A dark room greeted him, a few carefully placed lights iluminating just enough of the floor so people wouldn’t be walking around in the dark like headless chickens. Plush chairs revolved around at least three dozen circular tables of dark wood, with a minimum of three chairs per table, with a few bigger ones having a greater quantity of seats. The tables in turn, were placed around the area of the main stage, where three spotlights shone on it. He saw that no one had noticed his arrival, all of them quiet and focused. And they had reason to be.

Wearing a immaculate black dress tightly fitting her form, resplendent glitter sprinkled all through out it and shining from the lights, her hair pulled into a fashionable ponytail and the bangs that fell beside her head perfectly framing her face, Morgan Le Fae held onto a microphone stand with a delicate grip, her eyes closed as she sang with a beautiful voice that no one could complain about. The song was a rather recent one, from a singer Morgan said to have gained an interest in after listening to some of her songs. Matsubara, if he remembered correctly.

As he waited for a moment, just listening to the words reverbrating around the room, he noticed the way his muscles untensed and his eyes closed for a moment of relaxation. Even with all his unnoticed anger against the witch, he was more than capable of admiting that she had a truly beautiful singing voice. As he opened his eyes again, his lidded gaze locking onto her form as she bellowed the lyrics, he had to wonder... was this the Morgan that Kay once told him about? Not the hateful and petty witch that ruined everything... but just a... beautiful woman living on a difficult land?

But soon, the moment passed. He couldn’t hate her, he wasn’t the type of person to truly hate someone, but he would be lying if he said he liked being aroud her. There was just... too much baggage between the two of them, even if her personality had taken a much more mellow when compared to what little he remembered from their first meeting. But, he wouldn’t let his emotions push her away; he didn’t know if she could cut their contract and he was sure she wouldn tell him. All he could do, was push his emotions down like he usually did.

He needed her for the war. Without a Servant, he would no longer be accepted as a Master worthy of the Holy Grail.

That could not happen.

He could not lose this chance.

He ripped his eyes away from the witch, his gaze falling upon their patrons. They looked so relaxed that he wondered if she wasn’t using some spell to make them like this. No one complained that she wasn’t singing original songs, after all this restaurant he had managed to get with Raiga wasn’t meant to have those. People came here to relax, listen to a calming song, and eat good food.

“I’m surprised you actually took a moment to stop, Arc.” A quiet voice spoke from beside him, his eyes widening as he saw the witch standing there. His surprise must have been obvious even in the dark, because she rolled her eyes at him. “To imagine I would stand in an unprotected stage, free for the Assassin Servant to kill me, is the height of ridiculousness, Master.” Her whispers grew distant as she walked away, her heels clicking off the floor as they entered the backstage area of their base. Curiously, no seemed to notice the sounds they made.

“I thought Assassin was dead.” He tensely reminded her, as he followed to her private room and locked the door. A small black sheen passed over the door’s surface, letting him know the two could speak normally.

“Too fast; too convenient; too showy.” She rattled off, cocking her hips as she counted on her fingers. One hand landed on her waist as she turned to him, her eyes annoyed more than anything. Weirdly, it didn’t seem directed at him. “The Assassin Class has the ability to conceal their presence, so the Tohsaka Servant couldn’t have reacted as quickly as he did.”

“Which means he knew to expect an attack, especifically by Assassin.” Jaune finished as he nodded, silently grateful for her familiars. It meant that they still had to keep an eye out in case Assassin thought he could get a shot at either of them. “Do you think the Church and Tohsaka are working together?” It was a simple tactic, just smoke and mirrors, but effective when dealing with certain people. She raised an eyebrow at him, her confusion making him shrug his shoulders. “You’re the expert mage here, and the Queen of the Orkney, so I imagine you would have a better idea over how these people work. I’m more of a ‘direct-approach’ kind of guy.”

She blinked for a moment before nodding her head. She gripped her chin, her brow furrowing in concentration before she shook her head. “I can’t be sure. It’s impossible to imagine why someone who’s been chosen by the Grail would willingly give up their chance for the sake of someone else.” She crossed her arms as a frown showed in her face. “An alliance I can see, but the way this was orchastrated leads me to believe that the point of it is to ensure Tohsaka’s victory in the war.”

“And since the Holy Grail only choses those who have a strong enough desire to wish upon it, no Master would give it up.” She tapped her chin as she started pacing about the well-lit room. “There’s something we’re not seeing here...” She walked and walked, her mind running with a thousand questions and a million theories. Bribery? No, nothing that the wish couldn’t achieve. Coercion? Possible, but with a Servant on their side, no one would take it without retaliating. Duty? Who would care abou-

Jaune’s hands were on her shoulder and waist, holding tightly onto her, her own strangely holding his arms. Her eyes widened as she noticed it, but when she tried pushing him away and demand what he thought he was doing, she found she didn’t have the strength to do so. “Wha- What happened?”

“You blacked out. One moment you were fine and the next I saw you stumble. Morgan...” His tone grew equal parts suspicious and frustrated, her baggy eyes travelling upwards until they met his own, dangerously narrowed into thin slits of ocean blue. “You haven’t rested since I summoned you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I- I am a Servant.” She stuttered, cursing herself as she did. “I have no need of rest. And there is much to do; keep an eye out for Assassin, finding the other Masters, finding that serial kille-”

“Raiga is taking care of almost all of that.” He cut in quickly, one of his hands gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes as he checked her health. As if she needed  his concern!

Stepping out of his grasp, she tsked at him, her body turning away from him so he wouldn’t see how out of breath she was. “As if I can trust a human to handle such matters. Even in these days, mages know how to keep the Moonlit World hidden from the riffraf.” She dramatically threw her hair over her shoulders, her eyes glaring at him with a flat gaze. “Or do you genuinely believe that old fool can handle such a task?”

“...” Even if her eyes had been closed, she would have been able to feel him take a deep breath and pinch his nose. The sight made a vein pop in her head. “I believe that it’s an option that we have. An option  along with your familiars and spells, and my own work.” As if you’re actually investigating anything. Morgan thought derivesely. All you do is distract yourself with the meaningless problems of these people. “With all we’ve done, Raiga is now the top dog when it comes to Fuyuki City’s underground. And he’s putting all his resources into this. He has a good reason to, after all. He has to protect Taiga, remember?”

The little reminder made her involuntarily flinch. She wasn’t exactly... fond of Taiga Fujimura. The girl was far too abrasive for her tastes. But... such a young girl should not have so horrible a fate.

She would not allow it. No matter what.

She refused to let someone else die for her mistakes.

“But could you do that if you’re constantly tired?” He said, making her realise that she had just spoken her thoughts out loud. “I... don’t really get why you’re willing to be so protective over Taiga. But...” He laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her in a show of comfort. “The best chance you will get to finding that bastard and protecting her... is if you’re well rested and not running on fumes.”

Wonderful. Surprisingly, it seemed her Master could be rather manipulative if he needed to. Sighing heavily, she turned away from the knight and walked towards the stairs that lead to the upperfloor. She paused for a moment when she heard him sigh, turning back to see him removing the vest he wore before opening the bathroom door. He stopped when she called out to him. “Do yourself a favor and follow our own advice for once. Don’t think I can’t see the bags under your eyes.” He started at the words before scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh.

With her piece said, the Servant made her way up, opening the door to her private dorm. Settling into bed, she felt one last burst of energy go through her body and mind, but this one she used to complain.

“That annoying, hipocritical, overbearing man.” She rolled over in her bed, glaring at the dark roof. “Where does he get off, saying all that? I can damn well take... care of myself.” Her words slurred as exhaustion took over her. She shook her head sluggishly. “No! I won’t let him... be in the right-” A yawn cut through her protest- “about this. I... don’t wanna... Five more minutes...”

And so, Morgan Le Fae closed her eyes in blissful sleep.

Only to snap them open again.

But now, she was no longer in her room. Her eyes darted wildly around, trying to find where she was, but all she saw was only sand and darkness around her. She stepped back, her body tensing as she realised she was standing, before something grabbed her throat.

Something began chocking her, blocking her air. Something brought her closer, a black arm with wisps of red energy making way to frightening red eyes and making her feel. Pain, shock, surprise, confusion, fear, and a strange feeling, almost like losing something precious, alll hitting her at the same, all hitting her with the same absurd strength. She tried to call out for someone, but she didn’t know who. Artoria would celebrate. Agravain would watch. Velvet woud turn away. Gawain would help in killing her. Gaheris and Lot wouldn’t help.  No one would help. She was alone. No one would help. She wanted someonetosaveher. ShewasaloneShewasaloneShewasscar-

Suddenly, the pressure was released and she fell to the sands below. A demonic scream, a powerful roar, the two fought for dominance before the sound of chains cut through the air and clenched around something, it’s screams painful as they became more and more distant. And the last Morgan saw of her saviour...

Was a long mane of blonde hair atop twin violet eyes.

“So this is Kiritsugu’s homeland...” Irisviel gazed at the world around her, protected from the breeze running through her hair by the fluffy white clothes she wore, along with a russian-styled hat. It did not stop her from enjoying the way it carresed her cheeks, nor the way it found a way to chill her body despite her clothes. Her eyes glinted as she turned back to the airplane’s door, asking the woman behind her. “How about you, Lancer? Did you enjoy your journey through the skies?”

Artoria smiled at the woman, her hair now tied into a long ponytail that flowed in the wind. Her voice was gentle yet firm as she spoke to her companion. “Not as enjoyable as I expected, but I imagine it was mostly because I set my expectations too high.” She couldn’t help the slight tick that overcame her features as she stared at the clothes selected for her. She had expected something along the lines of a tuxedo in order to make her look like a servant of a wealthy lady, but...

A three piece suit of a white blazer with blue linings leading to form-fitting white pants and white leather shoes. A blue inner shirt covered her torso, its long sleeves reaching the backless gold gloves she wore. A long, blue coat with a furred collar was lain over her shoulders, its inside being a striking red with golden linings in the area around her waist. Intricate patterns formed on the top of the coat, the same gold lines forming the images of dragons and swords.

“I thought I was supposed to blend in.”

Iri smugly looked at the woman behing her as they descended the stairs. “You’re only asking this now? Instead of when you added that to your coat?” The silver haired woman danced around the Servant’s body and pointed to the back of the coat, where laid the only modification Artoria had, embarrassedly, requested to be made to the custom-tailored cloth.

Twin crescent moons over a dragons head.

“What does it mean, anyway?” The woman asked, ignoring how Artoria had suddenly stiffened, blood rushing to her face before she could control herself. “Some symbol from Camelot?”

Turning back and taking Irisviel’s hand, she walked off while ignoring the faint laughter coming from her charge. She distractedly answered with a mumbled, “It’s from someone important...”

The two continued their journey through Fuyuki’s main airport, casually chatting as they walked, with Artoria lamenting her inability to enter spirit form and Irisviel trying to relieve her of her worries. Through it all, Artoria’s eyes swirled from left to right, a  nugget of worry forming inside her. After presenting the necessary documents to the staff of the airport, all of them forged by Kiritsugu, she finally made to speak her question. “Irisviel... Is there something wrong with me?”

“Huh?” The silver-haired beauty turned suddenly, taking her eyes of the belt conveyor bringing their luggage. “What are you saying?” She suddenly looked worried, looking Artoria up and down. “Is there a problem?”

“Well...” Her head turned as she stared down a few of the people around them. “It is simply that everyone on the whole building is staring directly at us.” Some had the decency to look away after hearing her, but not all.

“Oh, that.” The Einzbern chuckled warmly. “I think it’s just your natural presence, Lancer.” She straightned her back and spoke in a posh voice. “They are stricken with your beauty.”

Artoria simply gave the woman a flat stare. “Sure, I’ll pretend to believe th-” She cut off as her body froze in place.

Looking around as descritely as she could, pretending to be looking for another piece of luggage, Artoria controlled her breathing and grabbed Irisviel’s hand, both now ready to bolt. Despite the dozens of eyes on her, she could feel a particular pair that gazed not with curiosity, but scrutiny, as if they were trying to figure her out simply by looking at her. Locking her gaze on a particular pair of people, Artoria finnaly figured out the problem.

Two women of blonde hair, the youngest with black roots, purple eyes and fair skin wearing a simple black suit and talking animatedly with a well-dressed man who was slightly bowing to her. But it was the other one who was staring at her intensely. At least a head taller than her, sharp green eyes and a toned, dark body showed off by a white crop-top that covered her shoulders and half of her chest, her legs hidden by a long, white dress. The bottom half of her face was covered by the shirt, but Artoria’s improved sight could see what seemed like a bone mask hiding beneath. She stopped observing when the masked woman tapped the other one’s arm and nodded her way.

Shoving the luggage to the maids following them, Artoria led Irisviel to the main entrance as quickly as she could without bringing too much attention. She slowed when Irisviel asked, “What happened?”

“Two women were observing us in more than just curiosity. And one of them felt far too strong to be a magus or a human.”

The homunculus bit her tongue, pushing her legs to go faster and keep up with Lancer. “Most likely the one of the unknown Masters. But why would her Servant be out in the open?” She couldn’t help but ask. From everything that she learned about people from Kiri, no magus would be dumb enough to just announce their Servant’s presence so easily. Unless... she has the same limitation Lancer did.

“There isn’t time to pose such questions.” Lancer spoke firmly, her hand tugging harder as her eyes narrowed to the side and her legs sped up. “They are getting closer.”

“They wouldn’t start a fight here, would they? It would bring down the church and the Association on their heads.”

“Best not to test it!” Artoria responded, opening the car door a bit more violently than necessary and getting Irisviel inside.

“Wait! Please, wait!” A young voice called out behind them, spurring her to get in the car as fast as they could, slamming the door and ordering the driver to go as fast as possible. “Artoria!”

Artoria flinched when she heard the muffled shout, her head snapping back to look at the purple-eyed girl and the older woman. BUt she no longer had the chance to question them, the vehicle leaving the airport far behind.

“That was too close.” Irisviel breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned into her seat. Unfortunately, their luggage was left behind, but they could get it back with the maids once they returned. Turning her eyes to the woman beside her, she noticed just how quiet Lancer was, how her eyes had become locked onto the airport behind them. “What’s wrong? You’re still tense.”

“That girl...” The Servant spoke, her voice confused as she refused to look away from the airport. “She... knew my name...”

“She... knew your name? Then, was the younger one the Servant?  A Knight of the Round then?” Irisviel asked, biting her lip with a sudden nervousness. Until she noticed the weary sigh from the Servant. Seeing the way Lancer’s lips were settled in a strained smile, she asked as she looked to the woman with worry, “Did you remember something? You look... tired.”

“Well...” She laughed humourlessly, a small twitch on the edge of her mouth. “It’s just that... she looked like someone I knew. Someone who is a bit hard to talk about.”

“She looked like... Galahad.”

Kiritsugu Emiya analysed the footage Maya took of the Tohsaka residence, watching as the Assassin Servant was hailed by a multitude of swords and spears. It seemed innocuous enough, little more than a covenient attack gone horibbly wrong. And yet, something about it unnerved him. Keeping his eyes on the screen, Kiritsugu asked her, “What do you make of this?”

“It’s too convenient. The time between Assassin’s invasion and Archer’s reaction was too short, and the Assassin Class has the Presence Concealment Skill. He shouldn’t have been detected so easily.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “It’s almost like Archer had been expecting him.”

Kiritsugu felt his own eyes narrow at that, scattered pieces falling together. “And in the Holy Grail War keeping your Servant’s identity secret is ideal.” He gripped his chin tightly as he asked himself, “So why would Tohsaka show his Servant so easily? He must have had a good motive.” His jaw clenched as he muttered possible reasons to himself, Maiya staying quiet so to not interrupt him. After shaking his head and discarding some hypotheses, his hollow eyes finally turned to the woman beside him. “What happened to Assassin’s Master?” He asked, not expecting the heart attack her answer would give him.

“He ran to the church last night and the Overseer placed him under their protection, as is standard procedure. Assassin’s Master is Kotomine Kirei.”

He couldn’t stop the shudder that went through his body when hearing that name, the way his muscles tensed and his lungs took a sharp and shallow breath. Sharpening his gaze, he comanded, “Maya, keep a familiar on the church and monitor his movements. The area is neutral ground so keep it at the border. If he leaves, contact me immediately.”

“Very well.” She looked at the video player for a moment, her jaw tightening and her eyebrows lowering before she turned to him once more. “There is... something else I need to show you.” She removed the tape with the recording of the Tohsaka Estate and put in a different one that was set atop the screen. “This recording is a little older. I managed to get it while one of my familiars looked around for any sightings of Servants or Masters.”

The screen changed to show a plaza at the middle of the night. In it, a blonde man stood against a immacutaly dressed woman. Their weapons clashed again and again, the woman using spells and skillful thrusts of her weapon while the man swung his sword wildly; fire, ice and lightning spewing from the blade. Kiritsugu admitted to some surprise when the man shot at her with a small gun, but it quickly passed.

A fight between Caster and most likely Saber, considering the sword and the acurracy of the shots. A part of him worried about the fact he hadn’t summoned the Servant of the Sword, but Lancer still was a very powerful Class. And with the information he could get from this recording, they would both have an easier time dealing with him. This will be good to see his abilities, and Caster is likely to die here when taking Magic Resitance into account. But this doesn’t show why Maya was so worried.

The battle continued until Saber managed to punch Caster into a small flowerbed in a move that was almost too fast for him to see. He stabbed his sword into the dirt beside her head. They spoke, the woman growing angry and shouting and the man confused before their emotions switched. He yelled at her and from his hand shined a bright red glow. Kiritsugu’s eyes widened at that.

“Is that!?”

“Yes.” Maiya spoke with a concerned frown. She knew the problem. What that light meant. “That light was from a Command Spell issued on what is safe to assume is the Caster Servant. That would make the man her Master.”

Instead of speaking his mind, Kiritsugu kept watching the tape, seeing who he now knew to be a Master stumble away from the woman, gripping his head and screaming, before charging after her again. They were interrupted by who Maya told him to be the Rider Servant and his Master. They all spoke for a long moment before Caster and her Master joined to fight Rider. The blonde man swung down at the Servant of the Mount, being launched back by Rider’s sword.

Their battle was swift, Rider keeping his distance and protecting his Master from both enemies. He kept on the defensive, as the now focused swings of the other Master kept him from getting too close, the situation not aided by Caster’s spells and simultanious ranged attacks. Rider was given reprieve when attempting to trample the Master before being thwarted by a slope of ice that sprung from the ground around the possible Executor’s sword. Instead of keeping the pressure, Rider took the chance to leave the area, laughing loudly as if he had won the exchange. There wasn’t any more of the recording as the Caster Servant noticed the familiar and casually pierced it with an ice spell.

“This is impossible.” Kiritsugu exclaimed with a worried frown, the tape rewinding. He couldn’t help but start pacing within the hotel room, problems and problems mounting on his mind. “In a battle between a Magus and a Servant, even one of the Caster class, the Servant is bound to win. There are very few cases of Mages on the Association who are believed to be capable of fighting, much less defeating a Servant.” Sitting down on the clean bed, he grit his teeth in frustration. This Holy Grail War was already growing out of control, beyond even his wildest expectations. “Whoever this is, he is a near impossibility in the modern world. Someone like that getting involved in the Holy Grail War would be a nightmare for anyone.”

He sat there for a moment, worry consuming his mind, before he felt a pair of arms lay over his shoulders. A quick peck on his lips, one that made him feel little , brought his attention to the companion that had followed him for years. “Luckily for you,” Maya spoke slowly as she pushed a thin, heavy box to his belly. “You have  this.” She laid the box beside him, his hands opening it to inspect the weapon inside.

A long barreled gun with space for a single round. His Mystic Code. His Thompson Contender.

Checking how quickly it would take for him to reload(about two seconds), Kiritsugu felt his worries be abated as he was assured by the weight on his hands. Placing the weapon back into the box and reminiscing on how light it felt compared to his daughter, he turned to Maya with a question. “Have you been able to find out where Caster’s Master is now?”

“About that...” She picked up a plastic bag set at the bedside table and brought it to him. Curious, Kiritsugu reached for it’s contents, pulling out a polystyrene bowl with a stylized lid. In it read...

Beacon ; Lunch and Diner from beyond the Sea of Stars.

Glancing at Maya and the portrait of a white castle, Kiritsugu couldn’t see the conection between his question and the, admittedly, nice smelling food. His confusion must have shown because Maya pointed to the bowl.

“That is where Caster’s Master currently is. He opened a restaurant in downtown Fuyuki, where he offers generous portions of food with rather cheap prices and some entertainment, primarily on the fridays, when Caster goes on stage and sings for the audience. He hasn’t been doing much else, other than some late night escapades where-” She brought out a newspaper clipping, the front page showing the image of a hooded man with a shield- “he pretends to be a superhero and goes around stopping any crimes he gets to.” Sensing the sheer disbelief coming from Kiritsugu, she awkwardly added, “...the food is delicious... and... Caster’s a good singer...”

Kiritsugu Emiya only had one thought at that moment, as he palmed his face in frustration and confusion.

This is not what I expected the Holy Grail War to be like...

Artoria watched from a sandhill as Irisviel played in the shallows of the beach, a sense of amusent growing within her beffore she pushed it down and sharpened her senses once more.

Long after she had said that she no longer felt the presence of the two women from the airport, Irisviel had requested, or rather pestered, her for a walk around the city to enjoy the local sights. Artoria had at first been vehemently against it, stating it would be too dangerous to do so, and Irisviel had even agreed and dropped the request. But she had looked so sad that Artoria couldn’t help but ask why the Einzbern would want to get out of the safety of the car.

It had been a good reason.

Simply put, this was Irisviel’s first time outside the Einzbern Castle, her first time enjoying a world beyond cold stone and dark rooms. She was a homunculus created for the Holy Grail War, and as such she had not been allowed to leave, forever trapped within her house. She just wanted to experience the world for herself for once. Artoria hadn’t been able to resist.

Now here they were, her acting the part of a knight protecting a beautiful princess, as Irisviel and her had joked.

“Lancer, do you like the sea?” Irisviel suddenly asked.

Artoria was surprised by the sudden question even if she didn’t let it show. Thinking for a moment, she answered, “I can’t say for sure. During my growing years, the sea is where the enemy came to invade our lands. But after Merlin and the others of the Round Table aided me in exposing Vortigern’s lies and we made peace with the Saxons, the sea became more of a thing that was on the background then anything I really thought about.” She stopped, both to take a breath but also to get a good look of the waters before her, the stars of the night prettily reflected on its surface and stretching for miles. “But now that I must give an answer... no, I don’t think I hate it. It is... quite beautiful.”

Irisviel brightly smiled at Lancer’s response, giggling to herself as she danced in the water. Turning back to the rolling waves she kneeled to cup her hands together throw some water up above laughing loudly. Artoria smiled at the sight, speaking without much thought. “I imagine you would have preferred if Kiritsugu was here with you. The two of you dancing in the waves would be quite the sight...”

She trailed  off when she noticed how downtrodden Irisviel suddenly looked. Before she could apologise, Irisviel spoke. “That would just bring him suferring.” The woman kept her eyes ahead, never once looking back to the King of Knights. “After all, whenever he’s happy, he suffers.”

A long silence streched between the two, neither willing to continue the conversation. Artoria ruminated on the words, confusion settling into her mind. Bring him suferring? Who could suffer with happiness? She knew her Master and his family didn’t make much sense, but this was too complic-

Her body tensed as she felt an increase in magical energy in the air. Artoria approached Irisviel, pushing down her confusion, and lightly grabbing onto the homunculus’ arm.

“An enemy Servant?” The pale woman asked, her face still having not retained her smile.

“Yes.” Artoria dutifully answered, the earlier warmth given way to the cold strength of the Wielder of the Holy Lance. “They are revealing their position, some one hundred meters ahead. Whoever it is, they seem to be inviting us.”

“So, they wish to determine the battlefield... Very well.” Irisviel turned to her with a clearly put-on smile. “Shall we accept their invite?”

As they cautiosly entered the warehouse district connected to the docks, Artoria’s fancy suit replaced by heavy armor and a light dress-skirt, a voice spoke ahead of them.

“Welcome, my esteemed guests.” A man appeared before them, dressed in simple cloth. Green were his shirt and pants, brown were his boots. Simple armor of blue and gold clung to his feet, chest, hands and hip. Purple bandages covered twin swords held in his hands, power humming from the blades. Calm still, he spoke. “I looked through the city for any who would answer me, but aside from Sir Shielder, they all prefered to hide in the shadows of this city. You are the second today to answer my challenge.”

He smilled handsomely at them, his black hair and yellow eyes shining in the light around them. “From that large lance, I imagine you are the Lancer Servant. Know now that I am the Saber Servant summoned to this war. It is a shame I cannot share my name with you, but the rules imposed on us are still in effect.” Preparing his weapons and settling into his stance, the golden sword held forward defensively and the red sword resting on his shoulder, Saber asked a final question.

“Now, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Lancer and  Saber stared each other down, neither moving an inch from their positions. Their weapons were gripped tight, the two ready to bolt in a hair’s breadth. Artoria distantly heard the roar of a lion on the back of her mind, Saber requesting to aid his Master. Not tonight, Saber. This is a battle between knights. She spoke into her mind, the lion chuffing but nevertheless relenting.

Saber smiled at her, his right foot shifting a tiny inch. And with that, both Servants clashed.

Moving so fast Irisviel could barely see, Lancer clashed her weapon against one of the bandaged swords of Saber. He managed to support the weight behind the attack on the black and golden sword in his left hand, leaving him open to strike with the red and black blade on his other hand. Lancer stepped into his guard, grabbing his right wrist and pulling it up while side stepping to her left, changing her grip on her lance and disengaging it from the blade, bringing the shaft towards his temple in a reverse grip.

Saber leaned back and let it sail over his face, twisting himself around and bringing his free sword on Lancer’s lower back. His blade was halted by the point of her lance slamming into his blade and driving it away from her, while simultaniously letting go of his wrist to bring her other hand on a palm strike to his head. Feeling the buildup of magical energy on her hand, Saber released his own Mana Burst and leaped away from the woman, flying so high up it took him a good three seconds for him to fall down.

Pressing the offensive, Lancer lowered her weapon and launched herself at him with her own Mana Burst. The edge of her weapon skimmed his chest as Saber managed to twist his body out of the way, raising his red sword in the same move. His arm moved in a sweeping strike, the blade ready to decapitate the woman who bent her knee the moment she missed. It only met air as she jumped high with a more precise use of her Skill, her body suspended upside down in the air, her lance ponting down. Instead of stabbing at Saber, the bulky polearm extended, it’s point stabbing into the floor and being used as a pole for Lancer to twist around and land a kick to the surprised Saber’s face.

As the man stumbled back and shook his head, Artoria took back her lance from the floor, twirling it in her hands with a small cocky smirk before she forced it down. Wielding it like a normal spear, she charged Saber, the Servant of the Sword slapping away the tip with his wrapped golden sword. She managed to twirl her weapon, switching the position of her hands, and butted away the red sword that came from the other side. As she swung her weapon, it morphed back into a lance, the heavy head meant to crush the knight’s skull, was blocked by the golden sword that was now held in a reverse grip, the blade being supported by Saber’s forearm.

The two jumped away from each other, small smiles spread across their faces.

“To imagine a knight to fight like so.” Saber quietly murmured, his grin growing wider. Lossing his composure and loudly laughing, he rested both swords on his shoulders, his face joyous as he spoke, “Something between spearmanship and hand-to-hand. Not something I would have expected from a fellow european knight. Especially the getting kicked in the face part.”

“For as much as I may have had some time, I didn’t have decades to train with my lance.” Artoria’s smile grew as she raised her posture, her eyes gazing at her opponent and her body ready in case he tried to attack her. Turning back to him, she continued, “And I learned early that one must use everything at their disposal to win. It’s imposible to know when I could lose my weapon.”

“An interesting filosophy. I wonder, who was it that taught you it?” For as much as the smile on Saber’s face told her he meant to compliment her, the words instead brought a frown to her face, her body tensing in a visible way. Saber, fool that he wasn’t, was quick to notice he had somehow managed to put his foot in his mouth and lightly winced. He had no idea what he did and he had even less of an idea of how to alleviate the insult.

But, as Lancer rushed towards him with her lance pointed straight towards his heart, he felt a fight ought to get her mind out of it. Well, she started it, so it should work. Right?

Morgan had noticed the increase in magical energy ages ago, most likely some arrogant Servant trying to catch someone’s attention and get the war truly started. She would have gone to check it and see who would show themselves, but had deigned to simply send a familiar instead. She had more important matters to attend to.

The modern world held some advancements she could’nt help but admit were rather useful. Buildings, now darkened by the night, passed by as she sat prim and proper in her seat, being driven by one of Fujimura’s men in his most luxurious car. A rather wasteful purchase, and one that got her plenty of annoyed looks for the spent Septims(is that how he called them?), but she was a Queen and she would not take a public service vehicle like the common rifraff. And the airconditioner and plush seats more than made it worth it. So much better than a carriage. Her mind blissfully thought.

It had been a day since she had been forced to sleep. A day since... that nightmare. She hadn’t been able to sleep after, only lying awake in a cold sweat and breathing heavily like never before. Even now she had no idea what had happened. She had stuck around Arc despite her mind telling her to stay away, since she only had that nightmare because he forced her to lie down. However, she had strangely found herself staying close to him instead.

But, as she stepped off the black car and waved her hand to open the gate before her, she had to focus on the present. Her eyes layed upon the unlit warehouse she had been denied from spending some of their funds on transforming into a lush mansion. And Arc had the gall to give her an unimpressed look when she suggested it.

As if the fool could understand her needs!

Reaching the entrance, Morgan layed her hand on the gate. With a quick flash of light, she pushed the door up and walked into a room much grander than what should be possible.

Her Workshop, where she kept her production of various projects. Armaments for her use, Mystic Codes, all being made by the hands of the Queen of the Fae, sure to belong in a league beyond anything the modern world could even conceive. Countless projects for the single purpose of winning the war. She doubted many would see use in this war; she had too little time to produce them. But even a rushed job was bound to be impeccable if she put her mind to it.

She must have already spent quite the while working, for she heard the door opening and her Master coming in. He walked past her, neither saying a word, and grabbed a white cloak hanging from a wall-mounted cloth hanger. Putting it over his shoulder and dragging the hood over his head, he walked back to the door, not before putting down a plastic bag in one of the tables. For a moment, he paused and looked back at her, the woman not saying a word.

“...” He too stayed quiet, almost like he didn’t know what to say. He scratched the back of his head, his shoulders tensing for a moment before he released a heavy sigh. Walking back to her and ignoring the way she tensed with every step, he layed his, thankfully sheathed, sword on the table before her. His hand brushed her side as he left, the blond not noticing the flinch from her shoulders.

“You mentioned you wanted to check out my sword earlier.”  he spoke to her, once he had Reached the exit. He stepped outside and held the door in one hand, inching it closer as he spoke. “So, I’m leaving it with you tonight. Just don’t do anything too weird with it, please.”

He closed it fully, but his voice was still loud and clear as he spoke through the wood. “Oh, and uh... I brought dinner.”

Listening as his footsteps moved away until she could’t hear them anymore, Morgan sighed as she layed her hands on the table, chastising herself for her silence. It’s not his fault. Her rational mind told her. This awkwardness between you is a liability. She knew that part of her was correct, but she was a petty witch first before anything. If he hadn’t forced her to rest that night...

No. She couldn’t blame him, couldn’t afford to act like this when her chances of getting the Grail were almost reliant on him. She may be capable of forging a new contract in the unlikely possibility he died, but no one in this world could grant her a near absolute chance of obtaining her wish.

Even if she wasn’t sure he would let her...

Taking her mind off of such thoughts with the aroma and wonderful taste of the dish he had brought her(and no one would make her admit she wolfed the extra large portion down, nor that she groaned in delight after finishing it), she refocused her efforts on her work. And she knew just what she would be working on tonight...

Picking up the sword and removing it from the metal scabbard, she layed it at the table and looked at the sheath, trying to see how it could transform it a shield. A simple Tracing spell showed her the way and she gazed as it expanded into a pristine white shield with two crescent moons overlapped on the front. Dropping it and taking the sword back up, she used a spell to make it levitate, her eyes gazing into the blade.

It was simply forged, a weapon not of royalty but a weapon of war, and from what she could see it had seen much, much use. A blade that had felled demons and dragons alike was sure to be a powerful one, but what both intrigued and worried Morgan was that she could feel that the sword was... unfinished, for a lack of a better word.

As if something, a limiter within, was locking the full potential of the weapon. Her feeling was profounded when the sword reacted violently when she tried some simple tracing. Backing away from the ignited blade and placing multiple containment spells in the case of an explosion, Morgan grinned, imagining all the ways she could tinker with it.

“ Wow. You’re a bit crazy, aren’t you? ”

What she hadn’t been imagining was the weapon speaking.

Far away, atop a crane, Kiritsugu Emiya scoured the area of the docks with a scoped rifle, the visor changed to thermal vision. It was a funny thing really, how mages atttempted to hide using magecraft and concealing their presence to any other magical means of searching, but with thermal vision gogles their forms were visibly shown. Just the nature of Magical Circuits heating up the body. His attempts to find Saber’s Master yielded result when he saw the highlighted form of a man on a warehouse’s roof. Checking once more in the night vision mode of his gun, he communicated with his other lookout. “Maiya. At the northeast of Lancer and Iri, in the warehouse’s roof.”

“That’s Saber’s Master.” He reported with a slight smirk.

“Wow, you can see him pretty clearly from here.”

Kiritsugu immediately turned to the one who spoke from behind him, his trigger ready to fire. Only for the gun to be ripped from his hands.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” The cloaked stranger spoke with his hands in the air, his voice lightly distorted. “I’m not here for you. No need to shoot.”

Kiritsugu kept his hand on the Contender hidden inside his trenchcoat but he did not draw it. Not from being placated by the man’s words but by recognizing the white hood that covered his head and shoulders.

This was Caster’s Master.

The realization froze him to the spot. Not only can he fight toe to toe with Servants he can also sneak up on me like an Assassin? Just who is this man?

Seeing the state he was in, Caster’s Master offered his gun back to him. The Magus Killer stared at it with clear apprehension.

“Look, I’m not interested on fighting the other Masters of the War, okay? This is a fight between our Servants, so we shouldn’t go around killing each other.” The hooded man simply spoke. He tossed the gun back to the Magus Killer, who fumbled to catch it, before it could fire and reveal his position. He clapped his hands together, tilting his torso, and pleaded, “So, mind not shooting me once I leave?” 

His head cocked to the side and he muttered, “Not that it would do much, but I would rather not get yelled at when I get home tonight.”

With that he straightened himself back up and jumped from the crane they were standing in, landing silently on the ground below. Kiritsugu did not hear even a groan of injure from him.

“Come in. Kiritsugu, come in. What’s happening with you? Are you alright?” He heard Maiya speak to him through their communicators. Taking a moment to watch the hooded Master running through the roofs and getting closer to the battling Servants, Kiritsugu then responded her.

“I’m uninjured. But I was accosted by Caster’s Master.” He heard her silently curse at the other end. “He claimed he doesn’t want trouble with the other Masters, but I don’t expect that to hold. I imagine he’s here to observe the fight.”

After checking his weapon for any curses or spells and finding none, Kiritsugu leveled his scope at the hooded man instead of Saber’s Master.

A common Magus from the Clock Tower could be easily dealt with. A man who can face Heroic Spirits on his own, on the other hand?

That was top priority.

“The Saber and Lancer Servants are confronting each other between the warehouse district and the mouth of River Miongawa. Both are very powerful, most of their parameters being A or similarly high.” Kirei Kotomine relayed to his mentor through their communication equipment. “I can also see three- no, four people hiding and one in the open, next to Lancer.”

“It seems that Saber’s Master is wise enough to stay hidden.” Tohsaka Tokiomi spoke mostly to himself as he heard the report from his pupil. “Someone that understands the rules of the Holy Grail War. What of the one in the open?”

“A woman of silver hair, pale skin and red eyes.” Kirei’s eyes narrowed. “She does not look human.”

“An Einzbern homunculus? So, Jubstacheit sent an articial Master instead of Kiritsugu Emiya. In any case, that woman will be important for the remainder of the war, so keep an eye on her.”

Kirei’s eyebrows drew down as he heard it. For some reason the idea that Kiritsugu Emiya wouldn’t be participating in the Holy Grail War made his stomach churn and his lips frown. He did not understand the reason behind that, only that ever since he heard of the man from his mentor, something about the Mage Killer called out to Kirei. To know now that he had no intention to fight was... disconcerting.

Yet, he still needed to respond his teacher. His confusing thoughts could be resolved later.

“Very well. I will have one of Assassin’s Enforcers keep an ey-” He cut off with a choked gasp, a sudden pain filling his head. He was so unprepared for it that he fell to one knee, supporting himself with a hand on the floor.

Tokiomi noticed immediately. “Kirei, what happened? What is wrong with you?”

Clapping a hand to his forehead, Kirei took a moment for deep breaths and push down the pain in his head. After a while, he reported, “It seems... that the Enforcer I was using to watch the battle... has been killed.”

“I see... Send Assassin himself to the location and keep watch on the ongoings.”

Kirei Kotomine agreed to the order, mentally reaching out to his Servant and relaying the command but, for the first time since the Servant’s summoning, being denied.

“I  will not go there.”

The priest felt his mouth twitch at the response. “Now is not the time for petulence, Assassin. We have been given an order.”

“And I shall not follow it. Before you complain, I do have a reason.” He cut in before Kirei could chastise him, or worse, use a Command Seal once more. "I was capable of recognizing the weapons wielded by the Lancer Servant and the one who killed my Enforcer. They are Rhongomyniad, The Lance that Shines to The End, and Crocea Mors, The Yellow Death. Making Lancer, and most likely Berserker...” 

There was a long pause from the Servant of Shadows, a certain tension. Almost as if speaking the next words phisically pained him. Nonetheless, he finished with a muttered, “...my former king and my sister.”

Kirei mulled the information over, before filling it away in the back of his mind. Reaching out once more, he asked his Servant, “What of the other mission I gave you?”

“That too, ended in failure. But perhaps more worryingly, that Enforcer was not killed by Caster, but someone else. Not her Master, he was away from the restaurant at the time, but someone I believe to be just as strong.”

Kirei frowned when hearing this. He made to further question the Servant before the red glow of his Command Seals caught his attention. An uncommon idea popped into his head and his lips shifted strangely the more he thought about it. Cradling his right hand he made his decision, for as much as it confused and disgusted him in equal measure. If I hate it, then why am I...?

“By the power of my Command Seal, Assassin I order you.” The marking on his hand started to glow as they activated their absolute authority over the Servant. “Make your way to the warehouse district and watch the battle and it’s proccedings.”

The Command Spell swept over the unruly Servant, the priest not noticing the smirk playing on the former knight’s lips. He did not respond to the priest in any way, simply following the Command issued to him. It did no matter if Kotomine felt such was strange at this point.

Kirei thought he would be insulted for the action and was mildly surprised to see nothing had come. Feeling the emotion pass away like all others, he busied himself with thoughts over the situation with Caster and her Master, especifically this new arrival. Another Magus capable of fighting Heroic Spirits? And both working together with the Caster Servant? This might become an issue if left unchecked.

Jaune watched as the two Servants battled, hiding his body in the shadows between the metal containers, where Morgan told him the Mystic Code she gave him would work best. He still didn’t understand what a Mystic Code was, so he just chalked it up to magic like he did with most things he didn’t have the time to understand.

Below him, a woman with an annoyingly familiar massive lance fought with the same man that had attacked him earlier in the night. Their fight had been quick, the man trying to stab and slash him, and him not having much of a choice between dodging and leaving the area alltogether. Sue him, he didn’t have his sword and shield, and he wasn’t confident he could take on a Servant without his most important weapons.

Tuning back to the fight, he watched as the woman sped towards the man, her weapon meeting his wrapped, golden sword. Before he could take advantage and strike with his other, a massive hurricane burst from the tip of the spear, sending the swordsman flying back. She chased him down with a speed that rivalled both Rubys that he had met in his life, the spearwielder spinning her body and slamming her weapon on the man whom desperately twisted to block with both swords. No matter how much force he mitigated, he was still launched across the area and into one of the containers.

“Enough playing around. You had your fun, Saber.” Out of nowhere, a smarmy voice spoke from it’s hiding place, Jaune straining his senses to try and find it’s owner. Weirdly enough, he couldn’t even pintpoint the direction it was coming from. “You still haven’t defeated her. She may be a formidable opponent, but you are of the strongest Servant Class. Defeat her immediately.”

“If it is what it will take... then use your Noble Phantasm, Saber.”

“It seems I have dissapointed my Master. For that, I must apologise to you, My Lord.”Saber spoke with his eyes shut, his smile once excited and joyus now growing strained. The purple bandages covering his swords tore themselves off the metal, dissapearing into thin air. He lowered both swords, not in peace but anticipation. “With this final attack, I shall defeat you, Lancer.”

After the release of the Noble Phantasms, the woman took a step back, a serious look on her face as she brought the lance forward.  Her eyes narrowed as her weapon began shining. “A robust yellow sword used primarily for defense and a demonic red sword for swift death. And a black spot underneath the eye with clear magical influence. I only heard of one legend such as that. So, am I on the right track, First Knight of Fianna?”

A hearty chuckle left Saber’s mouth. He raised his head, a suave smile on his lips as he spoke loud and clear. “It seems you didn’t have too much trouble figuring out my True Name. Very well Lancer, know now that I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne of the Love Spot. If you would do me the favor, however, I would have the name of an honourable opponent before I defeat them.”

Lancer closed her eyes for a long moment, seemingly in deep contemplation. When they opened, there was a softness to them, a small smile on her face. “Most likely, I will be chastised for this later but I must admit you were a grand opponent, Sir Diarmuid. For that, I will answer in kind.”

“I am Artoria Pendragon, Ruler of Britain.”

...Pendragon?

Jaune’s eyes widened under his cowl. That... that was Arthur’s name. Arthur Pendragon.

And she said she was a Ruler of Britain.

Then, this woman was...

Diarmuid smiled at her, his respect surging even further once finding out that his opponent was the legendary King of Knights. And after a moment, he ran towards her with all of his speed.

Artoria raised her spear, light emanating from the point as she prepared to release the true form of her lance.

Before they met, Diarmuid jumped high in the air, his figure being obscured by the moon as he brought his swords up together. As he fell back down with impossible speed, he yelled, “MÓRALLTACH!”

Both blades burned bright as the Servant descended towards the King of Knights. The night lit up as if the very sun had manifested in the sky, illuminating both Servants and Masters.

As well as the hooded man currently throwing a punch straight at Diarmuid’s head.

The Aura enhanced-knuckle connected with the surprised Servant’s face just as he changed the direction of his blades, Móralltach cutting through his chest and leaving a large yet shallow wound. Both fell to the ground, Saber landing unsteadily while the hodded man fell on his back, blood spurting from his mouth and choking his scream.

“Shielder!?” Diarmuid yelled, his frustration for being interrepted outweighted by his surprise over the man’s sacrifice. Lancer wasn’t in any better a state. Her lance having lost it’s shine, it no longer emanated the power it once did. Both just stared at, what one could easily assumed to be, a dying Servant who had protected an enemy.

So both were taken aback when a white light shone around his body and his wound immediately sealed. Kicking off the floor and getting up to his feet, the man streched his back and groaned.

“Damn, you hit harder than I expected.” He complained, his voice strangely distorted. He turned to Saber, presenting his back to Lancer. “Looks like I had the right idea to run away from you earlier, Diarmuid.”

“What do you think you are doing, Sir Shielder!?” Diarmuid yelled incredulously. He waved his swords before him, frustration getting bigger within him. “Not only would interrupt a duel between knights, you would risk your life doing so!? What would your Master say of this!?”

Shielder awkwardly scratched the back of his head in a way that Artoria felt was very familiar but she couldn’t place it. Setting his hand down, he simply shrugged. “Kind of difficult to say. I don’t have one.” 

Both Servants just stared at him, taken aback by his sudden admission. Irisviel especially, her thoughts turning to Kiritsugu. Did he already take out one of the Masters? Or was this luck? She felt her teeth biting into the flesh of her lip. Her gaze turned back to the Servants when Shielder, most likely the Assassin of the War, slid his feet apart and cocked his fist back, his back to Lancer and his gaze settled on Saber.

Diarmuid shifted his stance in preparation, all the while gazing at his sword. He couldn’t comprehend the fact this man could not only survive a Noble Phantasm as powerful as Móralltach, much less recover from it so quickly. Any who knew of the demonic sword’s legend knew that even a Heroic Spirit like the King of Knights wouldn’t come out of it unscathed. Yet, here was this man, acting with a layed back attitude that someone who just came back from the jaws of death should never have been capable of having.

His eyes came back to the shrouded man. Both tensed for a moment, ready to engage, when a voice suddenly cut between them.

“Shielder.”

They turned back to look at Lancer, who had lowered her weapon and locked her gaze to the hooded one. She lightly bowed her head before saying, “While I am grateful for your actions in standing against a weapon such as Móralltach, I cannot condone your interrupting of a duel between knights.”

She raised her head, eyes sharper than ever and locked onto the offender’s own. “You insult both of us with your interruption.”

The hooded man scrathed his hair again, sighing as he did so. “I never really had a lot of honor in my life.”

Artoria felt her eyes narrow as he spoke, her feeling a hint of anger in his voice. Strange. It seems to be aimed at himself. She soon refocused on his words as he continued, “I should probably apologise, but... I don’t think you’re getting a chance to continue your duel.” He said as he stared off into the distance. They were confused for a moment before hearing a loud... rumbling.

“Alalalalalalaie!”

Blue lighting struck the space between them, separating the Servants before a massive chariot slammed into the ground, a large crater forming from the impact. As the sparks died down, a massive red-haired man raised his hands and spoke in a loud, booming voice.

“All of you! Throw down your weapons! For you stand in the presence of a King!” He demanded with a smile on his face, ignoring the way his Master covered his face and lowered his head.

“I am Inskandar, King of Conquerors. In this Holy Grail War, I have manifested as the Rider Servant.” He looked at the surprised warriors, noticing the flat stare he was getting from the third, before speaking, “Destiny has brought us together to battle for the Grail. But first, I would like to make a proposal.”

“What do you think of giving up the Grail to me, and joining my army!? You would be treated as honorable allies, and together, we shall share the pleasure of world conquest!”

“...” Both Servants of the Three Knights Classes stared incredulously at the King, both feeling more and more confused by this night.

Shielder rested a hand on his hip and spoke drily. “This was your proposal? Not to burst your bubble Inskandar, but I don’t think anyone will agree to it.”

“Now, now. No need to shoot down possibilites. Neither Saber nor Lancer have given me an answer just yet.” The King tutted at the boy, wiggling his finger like a teacher to a small child. Inskandar smiled widely, internally pleased to see the man again. I see. Hate and anger do not fit your face, Knightly Master.

“I shall refuse this idea of yours, Rider.” Saber said after shaking his head, a little sigh leaving his mouth. “I have sworn to bring the Grail to one man only. To my Master, and to no one else!” He yelled in frustration.

“Your inane words are uselessly thrown to the wind. I hold my pride as a Ruler of Britain and cannot lower myself to serve a dense idiot of a King like you.” Lancer did not mince her words, any respect for her fellow King driven down by his attitude.

“Oh! So the King of Knights is in fact a beautiful woman! Haha, the Holy Grail War truly is interesting!” Rider loudly laughed. “Then, how about an aliance between us-” He was cut off by a small hand banging on his chest.

“Rider!” The young, black-haired boy inside the chariot yelled, tugging on the King of Conqueror’s cape. “Quit with this, you idiot! They’re not gonna listen to you!”

“So, it really was you.” The same smarmy voice from earlier, now with a tinge of irritation. And in the single moment it spoke, all present felt a sudden chill pass through them.

The young boy in Rider’s chariot froze in his spot, his jaw falling and fear showing clear in his face.

“I was wondering what madness possessed you for you to steal my catalyst. To imagine that you were intending to join the Holy Grail War. How preposterous.” The young boy gripped his head and kneeled, doing his best not to be seen. Sharp pants left his mouth, fear and panic drowning his mind. “Were you so desperate to know how mages fought other mages? Then, I will teach you. All the despair and fear involved. Be proud.”

“Little Waver Velvet.”

In a surprising twist, both Shielder and Lancer yelled to the skies. “If you’re gonna insult him, then show your face!”

The King of Conquerors smiled as he heard it. “Well said Shielder, Lancer! I cannot agree more.” Rider clapped his Master’s back and his face giving the boy a reassuring smile, before turning to the skies with a frown on his face.

Raising his voice, Rider yelled, “Mage! You may have been the one supposed to summon me instead of this boy, but know that I would have never obeyed you. Only someone with the courage to come with me to the battlefield is worthy of my blade. Not a coward too scared to show his face!” His words reinvigorated the spirits of the young boy with him, whom gazed at the King of Conquerors with pure awe and gratitude.

Soon, the man of Macedon turned to the dark sky, his frown deepening. “And to the others that hide in the shadows. Show yourselves, your might and valor as Heroic Spirits.”

“Others!?” Both Artoria and Diarmuid asked in surprise, wondering if they had gotten too caught up in their duel.

Rider turned to the King of Britain, his right thumb raised in the air and a smile back in his face. “Lancer, Saber. Your duel was a splendid one. It is no surprise that other Heroic Spirits would show up to watch such a spectacle.” 

He drew in a long and deep breath, filling his lungs as much as possible until his eyes snapped open. “Legendary heroes of humanity reborn by the Grail, gather here and now!” He raised his arms high, shaking his fist at the skies. “Those who fear showing their faces will incur the wrath of Inskandar, King of Conquerors!”

A long moment of silence strecthed between them, not a single soul deciding to show it’s face. All the gathered heroes and Masters looked around, wondering whether the near-insane Rider’s proclamation would go unanswered. But soon, those doubts were dashed.

“Two mongrels who dare claim themselves to be Kings standing in my presence. What an unfunny joke.”

Appearing from the darkening skies, a multitude of yellow particles gathered on top of a lampost, forming into a blonde man with expensive golden armor. His eyes were closed but all could feel the newcomers’ gaze boring into them.

“So, you’re the only one who will show.” Rider quietly whispered with a frown, his eyes moving around the area. . Turning to the golden man, his tone grew confused. “I do not see the issue. I am the King of Conquerors, Iskandar, and Lancer, the King of Knights. Who are you to claim we are not Kings?”

“Nonsense. Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the true Hero King. The only one to be truly worthy of the title.” He cut in, his red eyes slowly opening to the assembled crowd.  “You insult me by pretending to be as magnanimous as I.”

“If you truly are a worthy King, why do you not proclaim yourself?” Rider pointed towards the self-righteous ruler. “No true king should be ashamed of giving his name.”

Even though Rider’s words carried no scorn, the golden Servant was clearly insulted. With twitch in his brow, he stomped his left foot, the impact causing the light beneath to filcker and die. “You, mongrel, dare question me? The King of All that Exists?” He turned up his nose, glaring down upon the group as twin golden portals shimmered into existence behind him. “If before my glorious form you still cannot recognize me... such a slight is worthy of punishment.” From the one of the portals, an intricate gold and silver spear and from the other, a black and silver longsword in the form of a cross. They were pointed directly towards the two Kings, who tensed and prepared for battle. “Do you not agree, mongrel?” The Golden King finished with a vicious and manic smile.

As the King prepared to give the command, a new presence made itself clear. With a burst of black smoke, a new Servant, a woman in scorched armor and tattered brown cloth, materialized on the other side of the street. She raised from her kneeling position, a feral scream tearing through her throat as she glared at the Golden King.

“Berserker!” Artoria exclaimed before running back to Irisviel’s side, intent on both protecting the woman and keeping up appearences. Glancing between the Servants, her mind running at miles per hour as she considered the, frankly, bad situation she found herself in. 

“Five enemy Servants reunited in one place.” She whispered to Irisviel, the woman dividing her attention between looking at all the Servants and her friend. “With so many, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes; any would spell our doom. I can’t even be sure I can take them all down with my Noble Phantasm.” 

And something about Berserker feels so... familiar.

Yet, regardless of what she felt, Artoria knew this was bound to be a difficult fight for all here gathered, no matter who started it.

Chapter Text

The tension in the docks couldn’t be cut with a knife. One would need an EX-Rank Chainsaw Noble Phantasm to be able to graze the hostility primed in the air.

All the Servants had armed themselves, even Irisviel preparing her strongest healing spells in case of the worst. Kiritsugu and Maiya had redoubled their efforts of preparing to kill the Masters of the present Servants. Unfortunately, only the Master of Saber and the Master of Caster had shown, even if the latter managed to pretend he was one of the Servants. Kiritsugu held out his Thompson Contender, his closer proximity to the arena letting him aim the custom-made Mystic Code at the strange mage.

The gathered Servants eyed each other, focused and sharp eyes noting every detail about their opponents. The weapons they carried, the armor they wore, everything to determine their identities. The only spared such scrutiny was Shielder; all the man had was a cloak, a shirt and some jeans.

Unbidden, Gilgamesh felt his eyes turn from the snarling mad dog to the hooded worm and narrow into tiny slits. Something about that mongrel was... different. As if... he didn’t belong. Still, his anger at the offense outgrew any other concern. SPeaking with clear derision, the King of Heroes directed his words at the the mongrels. “Two worms who dare gaze upon the King of Heroes without any permission?”

The two golden portals moved, the Noble Phantasms held by them now aimed at the hooded man, while three more appeared beside them; two swords and an axe pointed towards Berserker. Yet, despite the threat, neither backed down at the sight. Berserker drew out a large, black shield from her back while a long and heavy lance materialized in her hand.

Artoria winced at the sight of the once familiar lance, now damaged to a point no knight would allow. Sometimes, I hate being right.

Shielder, on the other hand, had not moved an inch.

A sneer made its way to Gilgamesh’s face, his eyes glaring at both. “May your deaths bring me a modicrum of entertainment, mongrels.”

All weapons fired, their speed creating a loud boom, and travelling quickly towards their respective targets. Berserker swung her lance to deflect the longer sword that reached her first before bringing up her shield and blocking the sword and axe, a massive explosion coming from the Noble Phantasms. All the while, the sword and the spear that headed towards the cloaked spirit had seemed to actually reach their target, another explosion, this one greater than the other, forming from the impact.

Strong winds passed through the onlookers, a result from the explosions. The smoke completely obscured the areas where the two had been hit. But when it cleared, instead of dying carcasses, they all saw both Servants standing tall. What surprised them, however, was Shielder, now carrying the same cross-shaped, black and silver longsword in his hands and the spear nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, so that’s how you move when calm...” Rider quietly whispered, though he might as well have screamed in the silence left behind.

“You saw it as well, King of Conquerors?” Saber questioned the King beside him.

Lancer simply stayed silent through it all. Her eyes were locked onto Berserker. There was... concern in them.

At Waver’s confused sound, Rider muttered, “Looks like you couldn’t see it.” He pointed to the hooded man. “That man pirouetted in order to grab the longsword and used it to destroy the spear flying at him. He’s a bit slower than before, but he seems to be more well-rested. This might be interesting.”

Archer sneered, rage bubbling inside him as he saw them survive the might of his weapons. His eyes turned from the snarling dog, laying upon the transgression of the cloaked worm. His teeth bared, the King of Uruk snarled.

“You dare lay your filthy hands upon my treasures?” He gripped his arms tight as the same golden light shone behind him once more. Yet this time, there were so many more. “You must long for death, filthy worm!”

Shock over came the watchers, all of them stumbling back. The sight before them was too perplexing for them to compose themselves. More and more weapons, swords, spears, axes, clubs, lances, halberds. Thirty-two weapons formed from behind the King of Heroes, all of them Noble Phantasms, all of them aimed at the two fighters.  

“We shall see how long your impudent thievery will keep you alive.” Berserker lowered her body and aimed the lance foward while Shielder brought the sword up in a two-handed grip, clearly unused to both the weapon’s weight, but also the stance he took. One that Artoria was surprised to see.

It’s my stance. The one I used when I wielded Excalibur and Caliburn. He was inexperienced with it, there being many holes in it that she could see clearly. Yet, he was determined to wield it anyway. Strangely enough though, it seemed to fit him. He seemed... content with it.

“Go on, show me your best, mongrels!”

The weapons flew, the very air around them being cut into nothingness. Berserker ran to the side instead of facing the barrage head-on, ducking, weaving, blocking and destroying every weapon sent her way, her Agility holding up remarkably against the assault. Her lance moved faster than it should as it striked down any axe or spear or lance that came her way, careful to let her shield be in the way only of the lighter weapons. With every block, her vision grew darker as the weapons exploded all around her. But she still held strong.

On the other side, Shielder was careful to simply knock the weapons aside, smooth steps and minimal movements with the zweihander being more than enough to veer them off course. A stronger swing took down two more of the barrage while taking his hands up high. One weapon, a red spear with thorns engraved on it, was perfectly aimed to take advantage of the opening, heading straight towards the swordman’s head. Yet, it did not reach it’s target. Shielder had bent his torso backwards, letting the powerful polearm sail through the air above him.

Swinging his sword forward to use the weight of it to bring him back upright, the cloaked man took the long weapon and stabbed it into the concrete below. Dancing around in a small circle, his movements like a practiced waltz with his cape flowing beautifully behind him, the man evaded and dodged another barrage sent his way. His arm twitched for a moment when his eyes landed on a particular weapon, before he dashed forward and caught a short green sword with a wavy emerald blade. Almost like a serpentine body.

A white light travelled from the hand to the sword, the blade surging in a circle with a powerful swing, a massive gust of wind coming from the sword. Howling winds pushed through onlookers, fighters and weapons alike, their force pushing the weapons aside and making them explode in mid-air, yet the smoke did not remain. The Servants managed to protect themselves and their Masters from it in any way they could, be with cape or simply their arms and weapons. Yet, their eyes stayed at the man casually glancing at the sword in his hand with an appreciative gaze.

As the wind subsided, Irisviel found her jaw hanging low. The two Servants’ performance was... otherwordly. She had expected great battles between the Servants but this was beyond her wildest expectations. And she could see that Lancer agreed.

“A flawless agility and a Noble Phantasm that steals other Noble Phantasms...” The blonde woman murmurred as her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, watching intently as the barrage of flying weapons began once more, along with the dance that evaded it. “No doubt, he is most likely within the top brass of Assassin Servants.”

“Oh? Are you not aware, Lancer?” Saber turned back to them with a curious gaze. Irisviel stepped back, thinking he would attack, but he simply smiled. At the confused lookshe received, Saber smiled suavely, shocking them with his words. “The Assassin Servant was taken out two nights ago. Archer himself did it.”

“We can confirm it.” Rider cut in before Lancer could express her surprise. His eyes were trained on the battle but he shifted his body towards them. “My Master’s familiar saw it all. Assassin was completely obliterated. And considering your tone-” The King of Macedon turned towards the Knight of Fianna- “I imagine you know who Shielder truly is.”

“You can’t possibly be insinuating that he is the Caster Servant.” Artoria angrily spoke, ignoring the way Saber shrugged and responded that it was all he could be. “His abilities and feats would be impossible for one of the mage class.”

Rider’s Master grimaced at the words. He timidly cleared his throat, shrinking back when the King and the homunculus looked at him. Still, he spoke up. “It’s... it’s a lot worse than that. He’s actually not a Servant at all.” At their shocked expressions, he quickly dropped what he expected to be the biggest news for their night.

“He’s the Master of Caster.”

“...” The two didn’t show any outward reaction, the women just blinking as they stared at the young mage, the wind billowing around them and messing their hair. After a long while of relative silence, the eyes of the pale woman widened and her jaw dropped as far as it could. The blonde Servant just kept blinking, pure shock driving out  any sensible thought. Slowly, her eyes turned to the formely-disquised Master, a weird mixture of awe and aprehension filling in her gaze. “...huh?”

Said Master was currently getting frustrated out of his mind. Sure, the wind sword made getting rid of the weird lot of weapons being thrown at him very easy, and goldie sure wasn’t bothering do anything other than what hadn’t been working for the past five minutes, but the constant insults and the fact he hadn’t gotten one step closer to the Servant was getting on his nerves. What even was his class? Archer? How was this an Archer!?

It was in his thoughts that he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be alone in this. His eyes slid to the black armored Servant(Berserker, he thought Artoria had shouted), expecting to see her in much the same situation as him.

Turns out, he had aggravated Archer so much that the nutjob had completely forgotten about Berserker. The maddened knight took advantage of this blindness by throwing her lance through the lamppost Archer was standing on.

GIlgamesh felt his feet lose balance and blinked in surprise as he noticed his sight lowering rapidly. Though the King easily landed on his feet, his teeth grit and his eyes closed as he growled in frustration. “Fool... I belong among the heavens, yet you would have me trod the same Earth as you-!?” Gilgamesh hastily threw a sword at the shield that was thrown at him.

Roaring as she rushed him, Berserker caught her shield and transfered as much of her weight, strength and momentum into the second weapon in her hand, the golden gladius driving towards the divine king. Archer could have used the Gate of Babylon to kill the fool, but a wavy green sword appeared on his vision first.

After seeing the blonde fall, Shielder had held the green sword by the blade and decided to take a page out of Berserker’s book, having thrown it towards Archer. He watched as it exploded, but winced as he realized it hadn’t made contact.

Berserker jumped out of the smoke, her feet sliding on the floor as she moved away from another barrage. Gilgamesh snarled as he heard more footsteps, heavy and strong as they came directly to him. “DAMN YOU MONGREL!” He screamed as his weapons fired once more. But instead of meeting heavy black armor, they harmlessly sailed over a flash of white.

It was then, that Shielder threw himself through the smokescreen, already swinging the black and silver longsword from earlier down onto the King’s head. A thick, yellow sword appeared in the Archer’s hands, one he used to block the full strength of the swordsman. A golden boot slid back on the ground beneath, that very same ground now being destroyed as both slammed their blades against each other again and again.

Sliding under the silver blade, Gilgamesh tried to punish the mongrel, only to have his blade caught by a strangely durable hand that shone white when the metal slammed on the palm. Pushing the blade away, Shielder slid forwards and swung once more, fluidly redirectig his swing to come down on Archer’s head once the King had leaned away. Their blade lock was brief, the hooded man pushing the golden sword away with the advantage of his cross-guard.

He pushed the pommel forward, intent on stunning the Servant. The King stepped to the side to avoid the blow only to have his enemy deliver a haymaker to the side of his head with his free hand, knocking him unbalanced. With a determined roar, Shielder took the sword in both hands with a proper grip and swung down onto the Servant’s head.

Only to have his blade knock into a multitude of weapons.

Lances, swords, clubs, axes, all blocking his sword from reaching the very clearly irate Servant. With a wave of his hand, Archer sent him grinding his feet against the floor and, with a final push, sent him flying into one of the damaged metal containers around them. After much grumbling, he stumbled out of the steel box with his teeth grinding against each other.

He raised his head and yelled in frustration, “HOW MANY NOBLE PHANTASMS DO You... have...?” Before trailing off as he saw what awaited him.

Hundreds of golden portals appeared behind the King, the weapons within them now much more powerful than the ones before. Gilgamesh’s shoulders shook as he stared at the vermin. Letting his anger show in a snarl, the King of Uruk yelled with a voice filled with anger. “MONGREL! You steal my treasures, sully my garden and dare try to humiliate me! Dare try to make me bow for you to take my head! Your impudence has guaranteed your death!”

He raised his right arm, portals, hundreds more, surrounded the Master from all sides, cutting off any attempts to escape. “Now, die by the hand of the King of Heroes!” Gilgamesh clenched his hand as he roared, readying all of his Noble Phantasms.

Jaune bit his lip.

With his dragonsword he could maybe survive this by making an ice wall around himself, spending every bit of Aura to keep it up, but all he had to hand was a sword that wasn’t even his.

He could tell it was a pretty good one if the power he felt humming within it was anything to go by, but he didn’t know how to use it. The cross-shaped sword was nearly useless in his hands.

But he couldn’t die here.

He had a duty, to Arthur. To the people he failed. To himself.

He had to save Camelot.

...Siegfried?

A voice spoke, not from behind or ahead of him, but within his head.

No. You are not him. Yet... you are...

No, within his soul. He smiled behind his mask.

Great. Another talking sword.

Mind telling me who you are? I feel like I need your help here.

...Mine is the name you must grasp... to unleash the true strength of this blade.

I have... seen the life you have lived, young knight. The memories that your soul  carries .

You have withstood many battles, never winning without loss, never losing without Promised Victory.

No matter how much blood you shed, you kept your heart on the road of justice. No matter how many times you stumbled and fell, you followed the right path. As my partner once did.

The two of you carry much the same heart. The same ideals and duty.

So, raise my blade and speak my name, for you carry my blessing, Huntsman from Beyond the Stars.

Almost as if time had stopped, Jaune Arc raised the sword to his eyes, staring into the dark blue crystal engraved onto the hilt. Pouring his will into the weapon and letting it guide his voice, he spoke.

“O’ sword, Let thee be filled.”

Blue flames erupted from the blade, licking the air around it, throwing all here present out of their element.

Servants and Masters alike stepped back as they saw the Noble Phantasm react to the man’s words, mana pouring out of the blade in droves unimagined in modern human history.

“By my name as Siegfried Reborn, I command you.”

“Wait, what is he-!?” Waver screamed as the air around turned hotter and hotter.

“He’s unleashing the True Name of that sword!” Rider spoke loudly, the smile that once graced his face evaporated, pure shock and horror filling his eyes.

“That... That’s impossible!” Diarmuid yelled back. “No matter how powerful of a magus, there’s no way reveal the True Name of someone else’s Noble Phantasm!”

“Awaken from the golden dream. ”

“Who...is he?” Artoria quietly whispered.

“ Release yourself from its cradle.”

“You... You dirty thief!” Gilgamesh screamed as the Noble Phantasms of the Gate of Babylon were fired at the unrepentant sinner. “Nothing will be left of your bones mongrel!”

But before they reached him, the Aura, the very soul of the otherworldly interloper, finally reached the crystal of the sword.

By the rules set down by Gaia and Alaya, by the Wills of The Planet and Humanity themselves, a mixing of these two elements could never be allowed. Only beings powerful enough to ignore these rules could do so. And the Huntsman, for all his strength, was not one of them.

But Balmung did not care.

It had seen the life of this man and deemed him worthy of it’s power.

And so, the True Ether within the Sword that Felled the Evil Dragon and the Soul of the Knight of Compassion, in a crime against the nature of this world, united into one.

A bright, white light suddenly blinded all the ones who watched the battle, even Kirei Kotomine having to grip his face to calm the pain from the falsh of light. But, even wothout seeing, all the Servants could feel the ludicrous increase in magical energy coming from the sword, GIlgamesh having the lightest feeling it nearly matched the levels of power of the Age of Gods. When their vision recovered enough to look upon the man once more, all felt their jaws hung low at the sight.

Hundreds of weapons layed down on the floor, clearly having been knocked down by a repellent force, the ones closest to the human at the epicenter melting into the ground. To contrast the sheer ferocity of the visage, a gentle breeze, light as spring’s first breath, moved through the air and filled their lungs with the slight taste of salt and flowers. A white cape lightly billowed in the air, perfectly framing the man whose shoulders held it. A resplendent yellow light enveloped his body, so similar to his previous power, yet more than it ever was.

And the blade in his hands, once enveloped in magical flames capable of felling armies...

Now shined in holy golden light.

The King of Conquerors felt his jaw drop as visions of his men, his soldiers, his friends, flashed through his mind as he stared at the truly beautiful light before him.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne felt his arms drop as tears gathered in his eyes and memories of his life flooded his mind, even the few happy ones he made after everything went wrong, after the mistake he made.

The two former Knights of the Round Table, hidden and disgraced as they were, felt awe, pride, joy and reverence fill their hearts as the light reminded them of the once beautiful sight they had witnessed in their former lifes, before and after their betrayals.

“The evil tyrant must fall.”

The man took the sword up to the skies, the darkness of the night burned away by the rising star in his hands. As it rose, so did the light extend from the blade, forming into a shining great blade that shone towards the shining white crescent moon in the sky. He raised his head, his sharp blue eyes in full view of the King of Heroes, staring in defiance of the certain death decreed by the Tyrant of Uruk.

Artoria covered her mouth with her free hand, a light whisper only Irisviel heard escaping the King of Knights’ lips. “Excalibur...”

Swinging down, Siegfried Reborn screamed one final word.

“BAAAALMMUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNG!!!!”

Massive golden flames rushed forward. Heaven and Earth parted like the seas. The mightiest weapons of human history, held by the treasury of it’s oldest Hero, were all consumed by the newly awakened Noble Phantasm of a young desperate boy.

Soon, the flames reached the King of Heroes himself.

Gilgamesh knew that there were many a weapon in his treasury could stand up to this power. But he absolutely refused to wield any them against a nameless mongrel!

Fortunely for him, the Gate of Babylon held more than just weapons.

Bringing out of his treasury a multitude of legendary shields, he held them in place to stand against the full brunt of the sword of Siegfried. As the golden light slammed against the shield wall, Gilgamesh felt a grin spread across his face as the shieldwall held admirably. “HA! No matter what power you bring out of the depths of Kur, mongrel, I shall stand victorious!”

He taunted, confident his voice would be heard despite the distance. “Go on, waste your precious mana! And once you are broken and exhausted, I shall finally put you out of my mise-” Gilgamesh froze, his mouth set on a wide smile as he heard the sound of breaking metal.

One of the shields had broken.

Tha- that was perfectly acceptable, expected even! Gilgamesh reminded himself; the mana output of this mongrel was powerful, he would begrudgingly admit, and an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm would break one or two shields, but he would still be victo- Another one broke.

Gilgamesh’s eyes darted all around as the shields he brought out started cracking and breaking all around him, his teeth grinding as his temper rose once more. Throwing fairness and dignity out the window, the King of Heroes used Sha Naqba Imuru to see just what in Ishtar’s cursed name was going on!?

It was then that he noticed... he wasn’t being hit with an Anti-Army A Rank Noble Phantasm... but one of Ex Rank Anti-Fortress.

But... Balmung can only reach that power with a Command Seal...

His shock was too great for him to react accordingly, and as the final shield broke down, the golden light finally reached him, singing the ground and bearing death to all before it... he found himself staring at a stone wall.

The other Servants watched the beam of mana suddenly push through the Archer’s defenses before expanding in a unprecendented explosion that threatened to destroy the entire district. Rider quickly took to the skies in his chariot, while Saber jumped far away with his Mana Burst. Lancer carried Irisviel in her arms before a massive golden lion appeared beside her, the mount carrying both women away.

‘Kiritsugu! Where are you!?’ Artoria mentally screamed at her Master.

‘I’ll be fine!’ Was his less than helpful response. ‘Take Iri and Maiya away from here!’

Gritting her teeth, Artoria tightened her grip on her lion’s mane. Deciding to trust the man, she yelled out, “Saber, we need to pick someone up!”

The lion huffed before leaping right, vaulting over containers and buildings and spotting a woman in a crisp black suit. Speeding up and catching up to her, Artoria pulled the woman towards the mount by the scruff of her collar. Maiya rubbed her neck, wincing at the rough treatment but understanding the necessity.

“Good work, Lancer.” The woman said to the Servant before taking her hand to her earpiece. “Kiritsugu, come in. Are yo- WOAH!”  She yelled in surprise as the lion picked up even more speed and darted sideways, taking them to the opposite way they had gone to fetch the woman.

Leaping up, the descendant of the Nemean Lion landed harshly inbetween two containers. And right in front of a panting Kiritsugu layed down on the floor.

Both Irisviel and Maiya jumped off the mount and quickly checked over the mage’s vitals. Once they noticed he seemed to be just exhausted, and correctly guessing the likely reason, the two sighed in relief before watching as Lancer picked him up and gently layed him over Saber’s back. “Nooo... Not the lion...” He moaned, a small tremor going though his spine. Saber chuffed at the despair rolling off of the Master. Soon the three woman and one lion turned their eyes to the crater left behind by the attack.

As the smoke cleared and silence reigned over the district, they, and the rest of the earlier Servants with the worrying exception of Berserker, watched as the smoke revealed a man. Bending double over the sword stabbed into the ground, supporting his exhausted body with a strength none could understand, Shielder, the Master of Caster, panted like a marathon runner, a small light transversing his body and shimmering in places.

Lancer and Saber looked to one another, disbelief written across their faces, only to notice the faint snickering coming from between them. As they turned to look at Rider, that snicker turned into full blown laughter.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What a wonderful display!” Iskandar spoke loudly, bending over double as he held his stomach, more and more laughter pouring out of him. He raised his head, a giant smile spliting his face, ignoring the way his Master had toppled on the chariot. “Truly- HAHA!- you are a truly formidable opponent! As I knew you would be, Shielder!”

Artoria and Diarmuid kept staring, their mouths set in small smiles as they felt respect rise within them for the Final Master of the Holy Grail War.

“AAAAARRRRRRR!!!!”

Unfortunately, someone didn’t share this sentiment.

Roaring like a beast as she ran with frightening Agility, Berserker tried piercing the man with her sword. He grit his teeth as he raised his sword to bat away the cursed weapon, but his strike left him open for her to try to punch him with her free hand, hard enough to lift his feet off the ground. Blood and spit flew from his mouth even as he pushed himself back and away from her, stumbling back before planting his feet firmly on the cracked ground. All the while, Berserker stabbed at him, her lance now replacing her sword and pointed directly at his heart. Even when he blocked the hit, a focused explosion from the Blue Ether cartridges inside launched him back, painfully bouncing on the floor.

She threw her lance at him, the weapon glowing blue and primed to run through the man’s body.

The young lad saw the weapon being thrown, but before he could bring the borrowed sword to deflect it, he noticed something about the polearm. And with it’s vissage, a bittersweet memory of better times came to him. Of a young girl with a cheerful smile and bright future.

That lance...

...Ira Lupus?

He did not move to stop the lance, didn’t even think of protecting himself. There was too much shock going through his mind for him to bear, to many emotions to ignore. And so, the Noble Phantasm of Velvet of Caerbannog reached it’s target.

Only to be stopped by a flash of shining yelow.

Saber swatted away the heavy weapon with Beagalltach, his sword held with a tight grip as the lance dissapeared into motes of blue light. The golden gladius of before once more appeared in the hands of the Servant of Madness, who, for once, simply stayed still, staring at the knight before her. Turning to fully face her, Saber’s brow drew down as he chastised her. “You have already sullied the honor of this man enough, Berserker. He is tired and injured. I shall not allow you to harm him like this.”

The two Servants glared at each other, resolute determination from one and piercing hatred from the other. Their weapons were held tightly and their bodies were ready to move in the beat of a heart. But both jumped when another voice interrupted them.

“What do you think you’re doing, Saber?” The voice of the hidden Master of Saber unnaturally echoed around them. “This is the perfect chance to rid ourselves of a problematic Master. Without him, Caster will soon die out. Two enemies, so easily defeated, and yet you would move to protect one of them?”

Saber felt his teeth clench at his Master’s words. With a forceful tone, he spoke, “Letting him die like this would go completely against my honor. As a knight, I can’t simply stand aside and watch a man such as him to die to a mad dog like Berserker.” He raised his red sword and pointed it at the black knight. “If you wish for me to defeat him, I shall do so after I kill Berserker.” He spoke with a firmness that preempted any complaint.

Except for one.

“By the power of my Command Seal...” Saber’s eyes widened in panic while Shielder, the man still leaning on his sword, went very still as they both realised what was about happen. “Aid Berserker in killing the Master of Caster.”

For moment there was nothing. No movement. No words. Only the sound of small droplets of water began to fall in the ground before turning into a sudden downpour of rain. In the next second, a red sword slammed against Balmung as Shielder fell back from the force.

Saber’s entire form shook in place as he tried to will his legs to not move. His gritted teeth released a sibilant hiss as he kept his head down. “I’m... sorry.” He quietly whispered, true, genuine shame clear in his tone. “I don’t... want this.”

The blonde didn’t answer for the longest time, his eyes squarely focused on the former Knight of Britain. “No need to apologize.” He tried to reassure the knight, but his frustration bled into his tone. “You seem like a pretty nice guy. Sorry it came to this.” 

Taking the sword in both hands, holding it high despite the way its point wobbled, or how heavy his wet clothes felt. Despite how much his heart hurt. He raised his head to look directly at the black armored knight, his jaw tightening as he noticed just how different she was now. Why? ...Why are you here?

As the two Servants advanced on the lone Master, Artoria tried to move, to aid the man. But two hands grabbing onto her arm stopped her. “You can’t!” Irisviel hissed. “You spent too much mana earlier, and Kiri is too spent to properly back you up. If you go-”

“Berserker is my responsibility!” Artoria cut her off. Guilt and anger rose in her, half directed within, half towards the black knight. “I can’t let her continue like this! Even if it’s just putting her out of her misery, I need to stop Velvet!”

Her shouts were enough to make the silver-haired woman freeze, even if her grip didn’t relent. She hid her eyes, unwilling to look Artoria in the eyes, her whole body trembling from trying to contain the Servant. Her task was made easier when Artoria was suddenly pulled back by the jaw of the lion, Saber clamping down on the back of her skirt and tugging. But still, the King of Knights fought for freedom, as gently as she could.

“Lancer!” A sudden shout put a stop to their struggling. Looking above them, the three noticed Rider looking down at them with a cheerful smile back on his face. He puffed out his chest and spoke with all the conviction one could have. “Calm yourself and watch-” He turned back to the massacre about to start and cracked the reins of his chariot, his bulls answering with loud groans and lighting forming around his ride- “As the King of Conquerors shows his gratitude for a magnificent evening!”

Despite the heavy rain, Shielder heard the loud rumbling coming their way. His eyes slid to the source, seeing Inskandar coming after them in a charge that his Aura told him was too strong to be normal. Diarmuid noticed it too, twisting his footing and jumping away with a burst of magical energy.

But Velvet hadn’t. She was still trying to kill him.

If asked later, all he could say was that his body moved on instinct. That in that moment, they kicked in. After years of throwing himself into trouble to get the people he cared about out of it.

Just as the hooves of his bulls touched the one before him, Rider swore and cursed as he violently pulled on the reins of his ride, the divine bulls pulling up to the skies. After he managed to stop it’s momentum, Rider turned back with a look of horror on his face. “WHY!?” He screamed at the one on the floor.

At the broken body of the hooded boy.

Waver held his mouth as bile rose up in his throat. Irisviel fell to the floor as her eyes stayed locked onto the tattered white hood, Maiya and Kiritsugu staring slack-jawed at his prone form. Saber felt his heart plummet when the man didn’t move. Kayneth stepped back in shock. Agravain held his breath as his shoulders tensed. Kirei let his mouth hang in disbelief. Tokiomi stood from his chair in shock. And Berserker...

Finally saw the face of the man she had been trying to kill.

“Vel... vet...” Sir Jaune weakly whispered, his eyes rising to stare at her covered face. His hand extending towards her. Before it fell, splashing on the cold rain-water beneath.

...

...

...

... Why?

Why was he here?

Why did he save her?

Why didn’t he hate her?

Why?

Why?

WHy?

WHY?

WHY? WHY!? WHY!!??

Grabbing onto her helmet, her sharp gauntlets piercing the metal and clawing at her head, the shamed Knight of Treachery screamed.

The sharpness and volume was enough to make all who listened to it grab their ears to shut out the noise. It only ended when the Servant of Madness dissapeared in a blaze of black flames.

Rider stared at the groaning form of the man he tried to save, the imbecile somehow having enough strength to actually rise up. His breathing was heavy and labored; any other attack would be enough to kill him. So, the King of Conquerors raised his head and declared, “Master of Saber. I may not know where you are hiding, but I shall not allow for you to bersmich the honor of these men any longer. If you continue demanding Saber attack the Master of Caster, I shall put down your Servant myself. Seeing how tired he is and how he fights against your Command Seal, it won’t be difficult to kill him. So, what will yo do?”

“...” A long moment of silence followed the King’s declaration. “Retreat, Saber. That’s enough for tonight.” Came the voice of Saber’s Master, clear irritation tainting it.

Sagging his shoulders and nearly dropping his weapons, Diarmuid sent an apreciative look coupled with a smile at Rider, one that was returned. “No need to thank me.” The Macedonian King preemptively said. “Just a small moment of kindness in the shadows of war.” With a concerned look to the shaking Master, Saber retreated from the battlefield.

Artoria stepped forward, her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes wide as she slowly approached the wounded man. Admonishments ran through her mind, towards herself, her Master, towards Velvet. But most of all, confuson settled over her mind. Why would he save Velvet? Why would someone who wanted the Grail save an enemy Servant? She could understand it coming from Diarmuid or Inskandar, but a Magus of this era? She approached, her mouth moving to ask the million questions running through her mind when she noticed the puddle that had formed beneath him start to ripple.

Looking up from it to him, she saw how his body wobbled for a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly. His knees bucked and he fell to the ground.

Only to be caught by a pair of smooth arms.

Jaune opened his tired eyes to look at the silver-haired lady that caught him, supporting his aching body without issue. She caressed his hair gently, holding him tightly. WIth much effort, he whispered her name. “Mor...gan?”

“Yes, it is I. Now rest, you fool.” She spoke gently, subtly soothing his body with her magic. “I will tell you off for this later.”

“MORGAN!”

Morgan raised her head as she heard Artoria’s furious scream, the lance-wielding woman glaring into her with a rage better serving a Berserker. She stepped forward, all thoughts of protecting the witch’s Master banished from her mind. Rhongomyniad shined with destructive intent.

The two sisters stared at each other, neither flinching or backing down, simply holding tighter that which they held in their hands.

“Calm yourself, King of Knights.” Rider suddenly stepped between them. His face was impasive, almost set in stone. “Neither of them are in position to battle for tonight. And, as a King, I have promised to protect him. And that promise extends to her. A fellow ruler, especially one as honorable as you, ought let them go. Or I will be forced to contend with you.”

His free hand layed on the Lancer’s shoulder, his voice not unkindly saying, “There is always another day.”

Artoria railed at the thought of simply letting Morgan go; after everything that had happened, she had no interest in leaving that witch unpunished!

But...

But as a Caster, Morgan was most likely the only one who could save Shielder from the wounds he had. And she felt that man deserved to continue in the war, even if they were to cross blades one day. And so, with a deep breath to calm her nerves. she simply turned away, her steps taking her closer to the watchful eyes of her Master and their retinue.

Morgan released a sigh of relief. It seemed Inskandar had a high enough ranking in his charisma skill. With a wave of her hand, the water beneath her rose, closing in on her and her Master’s bodies like a cocoon. “...Artoria” She called out to the retreating form of her little sister. Just before the rising waters covered her form and that of her Master, the Black Witch of the Lake gave one final warning. “We will meet again. And next time I... we need you to listen to what I have to say.”

The King of Knights only sighed as she mounted her steed along with the others with her. Tonight was not a good night.

In a far away alleyway, a sudden rise of water gave way to the forms of Morgan Le Fay and Jaune Arc. The witch tighly clung to the knight’s form, her breathing deep and her hands tightly clung together, gripping the cape of his hood.

A hand landed on her shoulder, her body flinching when she felt it. When she looked to her Master’s eyes, the usual venom and resentment barely hidden behind them was gone. Only a strange and hesitant concern shone through them.

“Are you... alright?” He asked after a moment.

She only looked away, before she felt anger rising in her chest. Turning to him, she slapped her hands against his chest, trying to ignore how that was enough to make him groan in pain. “What about you, you fool? The idiot dumb enough to try to fight three of the strongest Servant Classes without a proper weapon?”

“I’m fine.” He folded at her heated glare, his face wincing at both it and the pain. “Okay, I’m not fine. But my Aura is already taking care of it. And your spells are certainly helping.” More than you imagine you fool. How are you not screaming in pain from three crushed ribs!? 

He shook his head before looking at her sternly. “But don’t try to change the subject; what happened for you to act like this? You’re usually more...” He waved his hands  in a circle as he tried to think of a gentler word to what he ussualy said. “...assertive.”

She laughed hoarsely. “I think you mean ‘bitchy’. It’s just... just that...” Her eyes lowered, unable to match his questioning gaze. “I wasn’t ready... to see Arto- Lancer again. It’s... uncomfortable for me.”

“I... I can see why.” He said, a solemn look on his face. 

They simply stayed there for a moment, the cold rain sinking into their clothes, and not a single word passing through their lips, neither of them knowing what to say. The just sat there, the sounds of buzzing cars and droplets falling gently on the terrain echoing around them. At some points, it seemed one would try to speak, before they ultimately gave up and stayed silent.

Sighing in frustration, the knight rose with grand effort, supporting his hands on his knee and the floor, before Morgan put her hands beneath his shoulders and helped as best as she could. Jaune winced from the force she was using, but forgave it when he noticed the desperation in her act.

The witch stepped away from him, her shoulders sagging and a dour mood settling in her. She didn’t frown, didn’t speak or complain. She just stared at the red markings that sealed her fate. And to think she would have had the chance to undo her mistakes... how naive.

As if she would ever get what she wanted. Not even in death.

Before she could further fall into her torpor any further, a gleaming white coat was hung over her, protecting her from the rain that continued to fall. Blinking, she looked up to the man before her who, to the complete astonishment of the royal woman, was smiling upon her. “So, are you ready to go home?”

For a long moment, all she did was blink. Go home? The hotel? The restaurant? She couldn’t understand what in the Root’s name he was trying to do. Even in her confusion, she pushed past her tied tongue and asked, “Aren’t you going... to kill me?”

“Hm...” He made a show of holding his right hand to his chin, her body flinching when she saw his Command Seals, before, after but a moment of thought, he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Nope.”

“But... you should.” She spoke dumbly, her mind swimming too much for her to think her actions through. “You can’t trust me, so you should kill me with a Co-”

“Nope.” He interrupted her with the same gentle smile, even if it was a tad strained.

“But-but Artoria is here.” She remarked, her mind stumbling after seeing his reaction. “You definitely have the same wish, so why wouldn’t you kill me?”

He lost the smile on his face, his eyes softening as he stared at her scared and confused face. He caught her eyes slipping to his right hand, their gaze fixated on it.  

Fixated on his Command Seals.

Swallowing the lump in his throat and supressing the sudden whisper in his mind to prove her right, Jaune stepped closer to her, finally noticin- finally acknowledging the way her body flinched as he approached, the way her teeth grit and her eyes turned to the floor. Her shoulders fell, her breathing turning rapid, fear and resignement burying in her chest.

Taking her left hand in his right, he brought both up to his chest, making sure to look Morgan in the eyes. “Even if she is here. Even if we have the same wish. I’m not using a Command Seal to kill you.” He whispered warmly to the wide-eyed wit- woman. “I’m not going to take the Grail away from you like that. Even if we don’t have good history between us.”

“Wha...” Morgan just stared at the man, her eyes shaking and tearing as her body trembled. “But, I ruined Camelot...” She quietly whispered even as he pulled her closer, holding onto her hip.

“And we will fix that. When we get the Grail.”

“But... Why?” Her voice trembled as she stared at the man who she thought had hated her. Why, oh why was he so confusing?

He smiled at her, this time, completely genuine. “Because I’m not blind. And, for as much as it’s weird to say this... you remind me of two people who I met a long time ago.”

“They both regretted their mistakes, one blamed herself for the destruction of the place she loved, of the city she called home. The other regretted the sins he had commited in his life, the bodies he lfet in his wake.” His voice turned nostalgic, his eyes misting as memories of a foul-mouthed Courier and a bandaged man seeking redemption  filled his mind. Of course, his mother raised him too well for him to just forget a lady right in front of him, his eyes snapping back to reality. To Morgan. “They were willing to do anything to make amends for what happened, determined to grasp any second chance their could to relieve their burdens. Her guilt. And I see the same look on your eyes.”

“I can see your regret. Your pain, your hope of fixing everything. And your fear that I will take it away from you.”

“So, even if its just the two of you in the end, I will help you fight for the Grail. Because I know you want it for a good reason.” The hand that held up the Mystic Code landed on the back of her head, bringing her closer and into a tight hug with his chin laying beside her head. “For a second chance to walk in the right road again. To undo your mistakes. Our mistakes. To save Velvet, save Gawain, and all the others. To save the people we love.”

Morgan stared at the wall behind him, small tears of that she couldn’t tell if they were relief or joy escaping her eyes. Not a word left her lips, she just didn’t trust herself to say anything without making an embarrassment of herself. But she did not stop the smile that spread across her face.

Stepping back as gently as she could, she raised her head to him with soft eyes and a gentle gaze, her mouth gently whispering a warm, “Thank you.”

Her smile turned brighter as puffed her chest, grabbing at his free hand and guiding him out of the alley she brought him to, excitement filling her heart even as she looked back directly at him. “Then, Master, let’s get ourselves a Holy Grail.”

He laughed gently at her expression, a small warm felling rising in her as she heard it. “We might not even have to. Knowing Artoria’s dad, she’s probably stubborn enough to try and win this whole thing on her own.” He looked around the area she had brought him, trying to pintpoint where they were.

And for that, he didn’t see the way the woman’s eyes blinked rapidly at that, her jaw slightly dropping as she processed the words.

She closed her mouth and, despite the smile that was still on her face,  felt a sudden twitch on her eye. Turning to her Master, she tensely asked him, “Jaune. Who do you think that woman Artoria was, exactly?”

“Hm? Well, she’s Arthur’s daughter, obviously.” He answered innocently, not noticing the massive sigh Morgan released. He closed his eyes as he smiled, his head tilting back. “Ha, I knew Arthur and Guinevere would get together at the end. And their daughter grew up to be such a fine lady. Man, I bet I would have been an awesome uncl-bleh.” His teeth dug into his tongue, Morgan’s knuckles digging into his jaw.  He confusedly looked at her with a twitch in his eye.

“Hmph. That’s for being an oblivious idiot.” She spoke, exhasperation clear in her voice. She ignored the way he shagged his shoulders and sighed. “In any case, while fortuitous, I did not go there to save you especifically. There is something I want you to see.”

She pointed to the side, at a crowded bar.

With a broken window.

With a passed out drunk below it. With far too many bruises.

Jaune’s eyes flatly stared at the woman beside him.

Morgan embarrassedly looked away. “To be fair, I wasn’t expecting her to start a bar fight. And even knowing what little I know of her, she probably won.”

“Her? What are you tal-” His question was interrupted as another man was sent flying out of the bar, this time through the door.

Standing in the entrance with her fist outstreched and a scene of pure destruction behind her, overturned tables and pilling bodies and all, was a woman of long, wild blonde hair and leather clothes more fitting for long hikes than city life. Bone and metal gauntlets covered her hands, clear rigidity shown from just a look, enough to support massive weight. Or break a dragon’s jaw. Her purple eyes shone in the night with obvious power, their slitted pupils reminding him of the dovah he used to face... all the way back in Skyrim. Her gauntleted hands landed on a thin waist with her musculed body showed off by her short top and tight shorts.

“Hey, thanks for the fight, !”

His eyes widened as he saw her, shining like a sunny little dragon.

She gave the man on the floor a thumb’s down, grinning like a predator. “But next time, make sure you’re strong enough to be an actual challenge, milk drinker!” She yelled loudly, in a voice the young knight could never forget.

Even as his tired mind told him it couldn’t be real, that she couldn’t be here, he couldn’t stop the light whisper that escaped his trembling lips.

“...Yang?”

Finally, her eyes turned to the two of them, widening in joy as she saw him. She jumped down the stairs leading up to the bar and ran at them. Morgan managed to slip away but he was too shocked to move.

“VOMIT BOY!”

And, with that hated nickname, Yang Xiao-Long of Bravil, Last Dragonborn of Skyrim, slammed into him and dragged both of them to the ground.

"Berserkerlot only kept up with Gate of Babylon because of Madness Enhancement"

I'll pretend I didn't see that.

No, seriously, I only found out about that little nugget of information and I already rewrote this chapter a thousand times; I'm not doing it again because of lore. To give you a scope of my pain, the previous chapter and this one were the same before I decided it was too long(8k words or smth) and cut it in two. Then I rewrote both and they ended up being almost 8k each. And I still had to rewrite Velvet's scenes to include her in this fight because she was previously meant to be the Assassin. And there was still more reworks to do. T-T

Sorry this isn't the free-for-all that some of you had been expecting but trust me, you will get something like that. Not soon, it will take a damn while, but you will.

BTW, this is probably the best moment to share this for various reasons, so I leave this week with my conception of Jaune Arc's Servant Profile.

Class : Unkown

True Name: Jaune Arc

A.K.A: Martyr of Beacon, Housecarl of the Dragonborn, Bane of the Enclave, Pendragon, Beast of the East, Knight of Compassion, Angel of the Saintess, etc.

Sex: Male

Origin: Remnant.

Region: Kingdom of Vale, Skyrim, Capital Wasteland, The Mojave Wasteland, Britain, France.

Alignment: Neutral Good.

Attribute: Star.

Strength: B++  Endurance: A+++  Agility: A-  Mana: EX  Luck: C-  NP:???

Class Skills

Aura (Dragonsoul): A skill granted to any huntsman from the world of Remnant. The manifestation of the warrior’s soul, projected around the body to protect them from harm. Increases the Strength, Agility and Endurance Stats and increases rate of healing. Depending on Semblance and experience, it is possible to share one’s Aura with others in order to heal them.

A++: Ever since his Aura was unlocked, it was stated to be of a greater quantity than most hunters from Remnant. This combined with years of constant use and improvement, his undiscovered Semblance, ‘Amplification of the Soul’, and the power accidentally infused onto his soul by The Last Dragonborn, grant him one of the highest Ranks in this Skill in all of Remnants History

Note: His Servant Contract with Artoria Pendragon also not only further strengthens him, but also grants him the ability to access the ‘Instinct’ Skill at the same Rank as Artoria Pendragon’s own.

Existance outside the Domain: A Skill that denotes a being descended from the void of space.

EX: Jaune Arc is an existance from an entirely different dimension, with little connection to Akasha. It is unknown whether he has connections to the Great Old Ones like Foreigner Servants usually do.

Magic Resistance : Grants protection against magical effects.

A: Due to his countless encounters with magical beings, as well as powerful Spellcasters such as Potema The Wolf Queen, Jaune Arc has developed an inate resistance to magical attacks.

Notes: In cases where the Spell or magical attack is in any manner based upon the foundations of Fire, Ice, Lighting or Holy elements, the attack is rendered entirely meaningless, regardless of the Mystery behind it. On the other hand, Curses are capable of completely bypassing this Skill.

???

???

Personal Skills

Charisma of Hope:  A Skill capable of increasing the abilities of allies during battle to ludicrous effect, as well as subtly affecting his words and the opinions of others towards him. Those who agree with the ideals carried by his heart shall find themselves naturally drawn to him, while those who look down on such will have their hatred decensed when facing him.

A: A knight whose mere presence is enough to alleviate the burdens in the hearts of those who have seen his battles. A saint who has performed countless miracles with no seeking of a reward. A man who raised the tower to the Sun as an example of true chivalry. One who inspired countless others to carry on the heroic ideals he showed. As one who took every burden upon his shoulders, who turns even those whose eyes have been clouded by duty or suffering onto a different path, Jaune Arc has been granted the near highest possible ranking for this Skill.

For Humanity: A Skill that increases all parameters by one Rank when facing a magical or unnatural being that threatens the Human Order. Cannot be used against 'Human' opponents.

EX: Even when first joining Beacon Academy, Jaune Arc had to face the Grimm, creatures hell-bent on the destruction of humanity. Ever since, he has faced countless threats to the Human Order, such as Alduin The World-Eater, Potema The Wolf Queen, Demons of Argent Energy, and The White Dragon Vortigern. He is one who stands against All The Evils In The Worlds, rarely, if ever, alone.

A Knight Must Not Fall Without Fullfilling His Duty:  A Skill that allows for one to ignore fatal injury and continue battling. However, it can only be used for an express purpose, such as protecting a loved one or defeating an opponent whose objectives are the damnation of the Human Order. For such an objective, it grants the bonuses of the ‘Valor’, ‘Independent Action’ and ‘Battle Continuation’ Skills. It is a Skill denoting one’s drive to achieve their chosen purpose of protecting the world.

EX: Born from the many times where Jaune Arc has charged into battle on his lonesome, facing  powerful enemies such as the Fall Maiden, The World-Eater, The Enclave Armies, Demons of Argent Energy and armies of mercenaries and Norman Cavalry. Many were a time where he was fatally wounded in these battles, some even ending with his near death. But, no matter the enemy, he always brought to his companions a Promise of Victory.

Noble Phantasms

Knight of Owner; A Knight Does Not Die With Empty Hands B: An ability Noble Phantasm that grants a ‘Faux Noble Phantasm’ Status to any object Jaune Arc pushes his Aura into. Anything affected by this Noble Phantasm is granted the strength and endurance of a D Rank Noble Phantasm. Other Noble Phantasms affected by ‘Knight of Owner’ have their Rank increased by one.

Derived from both his habit of imbuing everything he touches with the power of his Aura, as well as a small anecdote of his legend where he fought off a group of assassins with a sharpened stick, Jaune Arc subconsciously wields this Noble Phantasm in every battle.

Unlike the one belonging to the now inexistent Knight of the Lake, this version of ‘Knight of Owner’ does not grant instinctive knowledge of how to best use the upgraded weapons.

For Someone Else’s Glory, Not Ones Own D: Due to the numerous times he has been confused for other figures of human history, Jaune Arc has gained this Noble Phantasm as a small illusion. It lightly distorts his image when viewed by others who have little knowledge of his True Name. Only those who have met him before are unaffected by this Noble, unless they do not believe in the possibility of his presence. If one were to find out the True Name of this Servant, ‘For Someone’s Glory’ would cease to work.

Unlike the one belonging to the now inexistent Knight of the Lake, this version of ‘For Someone Else’s Glory’ does not grant the ability to shapeshift his body, even with the use of a Command Seal.

For Someone Else’s Glory, Not Ones Own A: Due to the numerous times he has been confused for other figures of human history, Jaune Arc has gained this Noble Phantasm as an illusion cast onto his Servant Parameters and Servant Skills.

When a Servant or Master attempts to use a ‘Clairvoyance’ Skill or something similar on Jaune Arc, all they would be met with is static noise and incohirent and jumbled words. Even the likes of ‘Sha Naqba Imuru’ are incapable of piercing this illusion.

Unlike the one belonging to the now inexistent Knight of the Lake, this version of ‘For Someone’s Glory’ does not grant the ability to shapeshift his body, even with the use of a Command Seal.

?(Barrier) A: ??????

?(Anti-Evil) EX: ??????

Chapter Text

Jaune Arc stared at the raining skies.

“By the Nine, am I glad to see you!” Yang spoke directly against his ear, holding him in a tight hug. Her smile was bright, overflowing with genuine joy. “When this witch said she was going to get you I tried to stay at the diner but, man, you got no booze! You know I need a good drink. And hey-” She lifted her body, her golden locks falling around him as she pointed to the unconcious men around them- “I got a quick fight out of it too. They were so weak though...”

She trailed off as she noticed how unresponsive he was. Leaning her body back, she pointed at him while staring at Morgan. “What did you do?”

“You know very well he’s like that because of you.” The silver-haired woman said as she approached with a stolen umbrella, opening it to block out the rain. Her eyes glared at the Dragonborn. “And don’t call me witch.”

“How...” A heavy whisper cut through.

Both women looked down, blinking when seeing the tears gathering at his eyes, the way his breath hitched as he stared at the blonde. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he touched her face when she lowered her head for him. She couldn’t be here. But she was. He could feel the warmth from her body. She was here. But... but...

“...How are you here?” He choked out, his vision blurring, tears covering his eyes as his teeth grit to catch the sobs threatening to break through his mouth. “Is this...a dream?”

Her response was to smile gently at him. Taking his hand in hers and squeezing tightly, her smile turned a tad more mischievous, right before she dived down.

Her lips met his, a searing kiss taking whatever breath he had left.

It was quick, Morgan pulling the Dragonborn back up by the collar of her shirt. But that didn’t stop the large grin spreading across the blond woman’s face.

“Did that feel like a dream?”

No.

No, it did not.

“Wha- why- I don’t- What’s-” He stumbled through the words, his face burning red. The hell’s just happened!?

Morgan looked unimpressed. Raising an eyebrow at Yang, she asked with a dry voice, a slight tinge of irritation hidden on it. “Is that really the best way you could think of?”

The woman simply shrugged, a smirk on her face setting off a throbbing vein in the Fae Queen’s forehead. The dragon girl shamelessly pointed a thumb back at herself, everything about her body language perfectly positioned to piss someone off. “Hey, the real me wanted to do this for ages.”

That caught his attention.

Recomposing himself, Jaune propped himself up with his elbows. “Real you?” He asked, suspicion entering his tone. It didn’t make sense for Yang to be here, no matter how much he wished she was. That only left... Morgan’s magic. With a twitch on his brow and a resigned smile, he thought in silence, What did you do this time?

The two women shared a quick look, some unspoken message with a concerned tone passing between each other, before they began nodding. Morgan turned to his suspicious face, her shoulders drew closer as she said, “The raining streets aren’t the best place for such discussions. We should go to the hotel.”

She then waved a hand, the same spell from earlier making the water rise and close around them.

“Woo! Jacuzzi, here we go!” Yang threw her arms high, jubilation filling her tone and face, her eyes closed and a wide smile filled with white shark teeth sprouting on her face.

Jaune on the other hand, just felt confused, his head tilting to the side. “How do you know what a jacuzzi is?”

As the water receded, he noticed they were brought back to the area around the hotel that Fujimura had gotten a room for them. Being pulled up by Yang, the three started to make their way to the main entrance, with Jaune being pulled by an overjoyous Yang. Even through the haze of confusion settling over his brain, Jaune still had enough presence of mind to pause and remember a very simple problem.

“Uh, Morgan...” He called out, halting both women whom looked back to see him holding onto the sword he had inavertedly stolen from Archer. “What do I do with this?”

The Servant sighed before walking up to him. Taking the hood and sword, she wrapped the blade in the cloth before closing her eyes. Both felt the tinge of magic in the air as the hood began lighting up for a moment before both weapon and attire simply vanished. With a smirk, Morgan looked up to the two blondes whom were looking at her in awe. “Before either of you ask, I simply used some spells to prevent light from reaching them and making them visible. They are still here with me.”

“Cool.” Yang said, cupping her chin with her free hand. “I don’t think Serana could do the same, but I remember the Doom Slayer doing something similar.”

For some reason, Jaune flinched when hearing the name, his eyes blinking in stupor. He looked at the girl with a raised eyebrow, more and more questions popping into his head, and only one getting through. “How do you remember the Doom Slayer? You weren’t even there!”

The woman just averted her eyes, her smile growing a tad bit strained. “We should probably go up to your room so I can explain, shouldn’t we? By the way, I’m really hungry.”

“I’ll cook.” Morgan quickly cut in. Not giving him any time to ask questions, the two just walked off and left him confused. A confusion that didn’t leave him either at the reception or the elevator ride. Not even seeing Saber at the end of the corridor did much to distract him, both men just looking at each other and the blonde just looking back at the gobsmacked Servant. Their staring contest was interrupted when the two brought him inside their apartment, the Master missing the way Diarmuid clenched his fist in solace. Poor, lucky bastard. The Knight of Fianna thought before going back to report to his own Master.

Being made to sit down at the white dinner table, he watched as Yang sat down beside him, holding onto his hand as she excitedly described her fight in the dinky bar, her movements and sound effects reminding him more of the two Rubys he had met in his time than the Nord sitting in front of him. Through it all, Morgan used her magecraft to aid her in cooking, mostly heating up water faster than the stove could and bringing her utensils from far away.

For five minutes, he stayed silent, his eyes travelling from Morgan to Yang and back and forth. Even when the Caster put down the food in front of them, only Yang made any noise, tearing into it like a wolf and groaning in delight. “Hmmm. Hate to admit Morgan, but your food’s great. Almost as good as Jaune’s.”

Morgan smirked as a rolling pin smacked Yang in the head. She glared at the pouting Nord, daring the younger girl to unleash her bad table manners again, before turning to Jaune with a sly smile. “Well, well Master. It seems that my road for surpassing your culinary skills is not so long after all.”

He just stared at them both with wide eyes. Throwing his hands in the air, frustration and confusion fighting for dominance in his face, he quickly yelled out, “Explanations!? Please!?”

Morgan sighed, like she was dealing with a petulant child and just wanted to rest after a hard day at work. She took the seat opposite of him, her hands laying on the table as her magic prepared a plate of food for herself.

“Remember when you said not to do anything weird with your sword?” She watched him slowly nod, his eyes narrowing as she tilted her head away. “I... may have summoned a Servant with it.”

...

“...What?”

She sighed once more, a hand rubbing her forehead as she held up the other for pause. “Just give me moment to see how best to explain it.”

“Wow. You’re a bit crazy, aren’t you?”

Morgan stumbled away from the sword, staring at it with an incredulous gaze. She had not expected this. She knew of certain Noble Phantasms that could speak to their wielders, but that usually required direct contact with it. And well, the fact that the weapon was not hers should have ruled out the chance of  her hearing anything. Narrowing her eyes in both suspicion and confusion, Morgan tried, “You... can talk?”

“...You can hear me?” The voice, which sounded like a young woman, seemed confused. No, completely shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to hear you?” The Queen of the Fae crossed her arms as she looked the blade up and down, her eyebrow rising towards her hairline. “Did you think you could get away with your insult if I didn’t?”

“By the Nine, you can actually hear me. This...” The voice paused for a moment, realisation dawning. “This is great! I’ve been trying to talk to you lot for days now!”

The Caster blinked. “You have?”

“YES! Who opens a restaurant in the middle of a Holy Grail War!?” It yelled in frustration.

“HEY! That was your wielder’s idea, not mine!” She shot back, shoving a finger at the weapon. Shaking her head, the mage clenched her hands. “Forget that! Who are you? And why can I only hear you now!?”

There was a long pause, seemingly for the weapon, or, most likely, the creature inside it, to mull it’s response over.  It eventually answered. “Probably because you’re a fey.”

“From what that pervet Merlin said back in Listenoise, your kind in this world is connected to the forging of Excalibur and it’s sister swords. You just tried analyse a sword that is similar to them, and I tried to communicate with you. With both sides trying to connect, the reaction of my will with your blood probably allowed you to hear me.”

Morgan laid a finger on her chin, mulling over the words. I imagine it can’t be too sure. Turning her eyes back to the object, she pointed out its attempt at deflection. “That only answers my second question, so, I will ask again. And don’t make me repeat myself a third time. Who are you?”

“...If you paid attention to the stories told in Camelot, then you probably already heard the name ‘Golden Banshee-Dragon’, the name the knights gave me. But my actual name is Yang Xiao-Long, Last Dovahkiin of Skyrim. I’m a friend of Jaune’s.”

“...Dovahkiin? What does that mean?” Morgan muttered before crossing her arms and glaring at it. “So, you say you’re Arc’s friend, but what proof can you give?”

“Hey, I was trying to show you earlier. I was gonna pull you in so we could talk. I didn’t think we could talk like this.”

“Pull me... in?” Groaning in frustration, Morgan slapped a hand to her face. “Please tell me there’s no Reality Marble in that blade.”

“Reality what? No, I was trying to- you know what? It’s best if I just show you. Touch the hilt and share some of your magicka with me. I’ll pull you in so we can talk face to face.

The Servant flatly stared at the sword. “That... would be the stupidest thing I could do. I already feel demonic energy coming off of you; I am not touching that sword.”

“Listen, I’m not the demon around here, okay?” The voice sounded more exasperated than anything, as if doing it’s best to put up with Morgan.  “But I do need to warn you about one.”

“That just makes this more suspicious.” She said through gritted teeth.

Rubbing her head, she closed her eyes as the more cautious side of her started acting up. She didn’t know much about Arc, only enough to know he was from beyond this world, so she had no idea if the sword before her was cursed in any way. She didn’t have a reason to believe the words being spoken to her right now.

But...

Something was nagging at her. A feeling that told her the voice she was hearing and the demonic energy she felt were coming from two different places, yet still within the sword. Grimacing, she looked back at it once more, feeling as if her time was dwindling.

Steeling her nerves and preparing her spells for any type of possession, Morgan marched forward and gripped the handle tight. Immediately, the elements surrounding the weapon began creeping up her arm and covering her whole body. Closing her eyes, she prepared for the worst.

Only, once she opened her eyes again, to find herself on a sandy desert.

Before she could question what happened, she was buffeted by a heavy gust of wind coming from behind, hitting her rhythmically. Preparing a variety of spells for battle and chastising herself for her carelessness, the Servant of Spells began turning around, before pausing. Her eyes widened as far as they could, her jaw dropping as she laid her vision upon the origin of the wind.

Beatiful wings of massive span, with a scaly posterior that seemed to radiate light and warmth. A long, barbed tail, it’s tip a striking red, almost like a ruby stone had been implanted upon it. Powerful legs ended in talons, perfect for the capture of an enemy, to either crush them beneath it’s weight or to break them with it’s maw. A chest protected by much clearer scales, overlaping in a magnanimous copy of an armored breastplate. Above it, a long, slender neck moved with every breath the creature took, with every move of it’s wings. And two sparkling violet eyes set upon a scaly head. Divinity radiated from the thing.

From the massive golden dragon that floated above her.

Oh. I... don’t think I can kill this.

Instead of swooping down to eat her or attacking her in any way, the giant lizard just smiled. “Like the place? I would prefer if it had a sun, but that’s just me.”

The half-fae blinked in surprise as she recognised the voice. “You are... Yang Xiao-Long?” She asked in confusion, her body stepping back, ready to bolt. Where, she didn’t know.

“Yep, that’s me! But I guess it’s best if I looked a little more human, right?” Diving down and sending Morgan stumbling back, Yang’s whole body shone brightly, turning into a mass of light touching down on the sand below. When the Servant looked again, she saw a young woman with leather clothes, metal gauntlets, boots and chestplate, and yellow wild-hair flowing behind her. The girl’s hands landed on her hips, her face splitting in a snarky grin. “So, does this look better?”

“It... does.” Morgan answered hesitantly. Trying to take the conversation’s reins, she asked, “I assume, then, that Dovahkiin is related to dragons in some form?”

The blonde nodded her head, her smirk growing further. “Yeah, I’m the Dragonborn, The Born Hunter of Dragonkind.” She spoke with pride and elation, as if the mention of her name brought with it trumpest of a thousand bards and the honorable stories told to both children in bed and to knights seeking an example to follow. Before her face fell, her eyes falling to the ground as she muttered, “But that’s in Skyrim, and here is... somewhere else.” She finished unconfidently.

Filing the information to the back of her mind, Morgan decided to focus on the other piece of information she imagined was deliberately slipped to her. “You don’t know what this place is? Haven’t you been here for some time at the least?”

The girl shook her head while dramatically releasing a sigh. “Yeah, that’s awkward, I know. Most we’ve been able to gleam from this world is that it was made by a weird mixture of Jaune’s Aura and the Chaos enchantment implanted on the sword.”

Her ears perked up at the words. “Chaos enchantment? You mean the elements that pour out of the blade? So this world was created by it.”

Humming as she finished the statement, the Servant took a moment to feel the world around her. Sure enough, she could feel the warmth of fire beneath her feet, the cold chill in the wind and most of all, see the blue sky. Not in the sense of an open sky, but one formed entirely out of constantly sparking lightning. It feels like... some form of creation. How strange...

It feels like Avalon.

Looking back to the impatient dragon girl, Morgan’s eyes narrowed as she noticed the words from earlier. “I’m sorry, did you say we? There’s others here with you?”

“Yeah, they’re right behind you.”

Turning around, Morgan was bewildered as she saw a multitude of characters, most that she didn’t recognise, but one, who was being forcefully constrained by the rest, that she was very familiar with.

A young Artoria, lashing out like a hellcat in the arms of her captors.

“LET ME AT HER! SHE DESERVES IT!” Artoria screamed out, her voice weirdly spectral. “SHE RUINED EVERYTHING!”

“We’re all well aware, Artoria.” One of her sister’s captors said, instantly drawing her attention. He was a rather tall man, a whole head taller than both her and her little sister. His hair was short and dark, little spots of redish-yellow peeking in a few spots, like bonfires in a dark forest. The man was well dressed, a white shirt with a popped collar covering his torso and a black cape with a furred collar hugging his shoulders. His black pants were stylish, filled with intricate blue patterns. “But we need her, Jaune needs her, to win the Grail. Remember that?”

“Please Artoria, calm down.” Said a young, black haired girl with silver eyes in some strange, lean armor of gunmetal grey, holding onto Artoria’s arms and sounding more stern than she should have any right to be. “We get that she caused a whole lot of trouble, but her help is going to solve everything. So chill out already!”

After a brief struggle, Artoria finally calmed down, going slack in the arms of the man.

“Now, now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The man behind her obnoxiously patted the woman’s head, ignoring her promise to kill him in his sleep. Turning to Morgan, he breezely smiled. “And now, the Queen of the Fae joins us. Tell me Dragonborn, is this another fragment or did you succeed in your little endeavor?”

“You bet I did!” The Dovahkiin proudly thumped her chest before grabbing the shoulders of the queen beside her and dragging the woman to her, her free hand extended to better present, “The Morgan Le Fae, Queen of the Fairies and Chosen of the Will of Britain, summoned by Jaune for the Holy Grail War. And I managed to bring her here. Now we can get going wit-oof.”

The dragonborn didn’t get to finish because Morgan, feeling confused and frustrated, pushed the blonde away with a hard shove. Straightening her dress and rearranging her crown, she turned to the barbarian with a glare and a frown. “Just what is the meaning of this, Dovahkiin? Who are these people? And I very much doubt that’s the real Artoria, so don’t you lie to me.”

Chuckling nervously as she rubbed her stomach, the blonde woman sheepishly turned to her. “Yeah, you’re uh... halfway wrong and halfway right.” Grinning once more, she thumped one fist thumping against her chest. “We are Soul Fragments. Pieces of the souls of every one who have been touched by Jaune’s Aura. We kind of became a part of him; kinda like Divided Spirits.”

WIth a huff of exhasperated air, Artoria cut in, her voice firm and strong. “Be it through the miracle of Aura or a sworn oath to follow him and his ideals. We are the ones who’ve been with Jaune Arc in spirit and more.”

Yang laughed when seeing the serious expression or the young royal’s face. “That’s the Red Dragon right there. Knew there was a reason I liked you.” Grabbing Morgan’s shoulders once more, she spoke, “Now, I think it’s time for you to know your welcome committe. Since you already know Artoria, I’m going to skip her and go straight to the others.”

She pointed to the fragment of the young girl, the dragonborn continued, “That’s Ruby ‘Rose’ Ironwood. She’s from the second world Jaune visited, the Capital Wasteland. The Lone Wanderer and Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel.” She lowered her head and stage-whispered to the Servant, “Pretty much future knights of Camelot with a pinch of xenophobia.”

“I mean, not wrong, but come on Yang.” The ravenette groaned, her gaze flat as she looked at the blonde haired woman. “The Brotherhood got a lot better after the war with the Enclave. And you know how hard it was to get people to call me Knight-Errant. I still don’t know how Lone Wanderer caught on so well.” She muttered with a pout on her lips.

Shaking her head, the young woman walked over to the Queen of the Fae and extended her hand in greeting, a small smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Ruby. Can’t say it’s exactly nice to meet you, but I hope we can work together.”

Quickly searching through her memories even as she delicately grasped the offered hand, the Caster looked the girl in the eyes as she remembered a particular fact. “Ruby Ironwood. The author of the Wasteland Survival Guide, along with Moira Brown. The book Artoria used for the founding of Camelot and the subsequent agricultural revolution.”

At the young woman’s nod, Morgan smiled proudly. Turning to the last of them, Morgan raised an eyebrow and pointed at the strange figure. “What about that man?”

“That’s Vortingern.” The blonde said, casually not acknowledging the way Morgan’s eyes became as wide as dinnerplates. “He’s an exception here, considering he’s an enemy of ours.”

...

Astonished, Morgan turned to the woman beside her. “Excuse me?”

“Now, now, I know it’s a surprise to see me here, but when your dragon blood drenches a man’s soul, what can you do?” The Will of Britain raised his arms placatingly, ignoring how she leveled several spells directly aimed at him. The smile on his face dissapeared, replaced by a serious frown and a stern gaze. Turning away, he looked towards a nearby cliff. “But with introductions out of the way, we really should get on with the reason we brought you here. So, if you would but follow us, my niece.”

As the party began making their way, the Servant grabbed the Dragonborn’s arm, hissing on her ear. “You didn’t tell me Vortigern would be here! Or any of these people!”

Yang waved her free hand in front of the half-fae, a out-of-place sharp gaze on her face. “I know, I know. But I did say I had to warn you about a demon. And no, it’s not Vortigern. You will see.”

Walking with the group for minutes in silence, Morgan kept herself prepared for any kind of danger, from Artoria or Vortigern. Neither semed particularly enthused with the idea of attacking her, their serious faces staring ahead and focusing on little more. Cresting a hill, she gasped as she saw what layed past it.

Hundreds upon hundreds of figures. Hulking giants of gunmetal grey, silver-vested knights, young fighters of colorful outfits. A literal army of humans with several dragons and countless machines made by humanity’s hands covered the skies above with an oppressive presence.

From the machines, a few looked like pudgy birds, rotating blades keeping them in the air, heavy barrels on their fronts. The two biggest aircrafts between them had little similarity between them; one a B-29 Superfortress bomber, the name only known to her thanks to the Grail, and the other a steel blimp filled with headlights, clearly not weaponised, but she knew it wouldn’t be there if not to supply the army with something.

Of the humans, most were bearing the same bulky, silver armor, carrying weapons she had never before seen, everything about them telling her they were from a time she would never experience. Most others wore the same metal armor she was familiar with from her secretive ventures inside Camelot’s walls.

Some were more distinctive. A group of three, one a girl with bronze greek armor and weapons, blazing red hair tied into a ponytail and fluttering behind her. The second, with asian monk-like clothes and two green short guns with blades protuding below the barrels. And the last, a girl with colourful clothes and a heavy hammer she easily held. Another, a woman with familiar red hair and a long barreled rifle primed and ready; beside her, a man in a long trenchcoat with a similar rifle and another covered in bandages dual wielding pistols.

She had no idea who any of them could be.

But some of them she could recognise.

Velvet. Gawain. Bedivere, The Hand of Loyalty. Agravain. Percival of The Holy Lance. Gaheris. Pellinore, the Once Maimed King. Kay the Sharp-Tongued.

Almost all the Knights of the Round Table and countless more of the soldiers of Camelot, all ready and armed for battle. And standing above them while holding what the Grail informed her were known as miniature nuclear warheads was...

“++LIBERTY PRIME IS ONLINE. ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL. WEAPONS HOT. WE WILL NOT FEAR THE RED MENACE. VICTORY IS ASSURED++”

Her mind couldn’t comprehend just how in the hell this army had managed to exist, hidden in the soul of a single man. Was this how he was so powerful, even without being a proper Heroic Spirit? Where these people truly so affected by one man that their souls still followed him throughout however many dimensions the knight had crossed? AND HOW IN THE ROOT’S NAME WAS A GIANT ROBOT HERE!?

It was surreal. It was impossible. It unnerved her. For as much as part of her, the part of her that was a Servant of the war, was vindicated by her Master’s strength, the rest of her was unnerved and confused. But most of all, as she noticed how they all stared into one singular spot... it scared her.

For what would be so dangerous, that this army needed to be on stand at all times?

A void in the world answered that question.

A creature of pure blackness, looking more like a tower of ink in white paper, pulsated with foul energy, restrained by white and gold chains that wrapped around it. The form of the monster obscured by it’s own darkness, it’s silhouette that of a thin, great horned demon.

Even from here, hundreds of feet above it, the Servant could feel the sheer malevolence coming from it. Curses, hatred, envy, lust, violence, punishment, it all oozed out of it, a thick miasma that clogged her throat. Her legs trembled as she stared at it, her eyes widening as she noticed... that it was the same thing that attacked her in her dream. The same thing that tried to take her life- No. That tried to take her soul.

And as she stared at it, it stared back. With twin, blazing red eyes.

She subconciously stepped back, sweat gathering in her brow. “What... is... that?”

“That,” The Dragonborn spoke as she stood shoulder to shoulder to the terrified woman. “Is the accumulated blood of the evils that this sword has killed. Their resentment. Their anger. Their souls. All of it given form by the Argent Energy that seeped into this sword when we went to Hell, doing it’s best to corrupt and taint our souls. And Jaune’s own.”

Morgan stepped back until she couldn’t see it anymore. Even then, she had to slap a hand against her mouth to keep herself from vomiting at the visage of that thing. “This- That- Arc never noticed this!? HOW!?”

Artoria crossed her arms, her eyes calm as she answered. “The demonic energy is restrained, weakened by years of his aura supressing it.” Those same emeralds now sharpened as she snarled at the witch. “And if it wasn’t for you, it may as well have been harmless.”

As the elder sister’s eyes widened, Ruby Ironwood cut in. “It’s usually weak enough for us to just ignore it’s existence. It tries to whisper and corrupt, but Jaune can resist.” Her face was overtaken by a grimace. “Or, well... he could.”

“Ever since you banished him from Camelot, his mind has started deteriorating.” Vortigern cut in, putting his hands on his hips, his eyes looking off to the side. “Though it wasn’t in the best of states either, he still had the joy in and around the castle to keep the voices in check. He managed to keep himself busy with this Shielder act, small mercy that it is, and the hope from the Holy Grail’s wish is helping, but hope has a tendency to turn into despiar if not properly cultivated. If Arc ever falls to it’s promises...”

Then it would corrupt him. He would become like it. A being of destruction.

If The First of the Knights of the Round Table succumbed and became a demon, with access to all these souls, all the power of this sword and his Aura, then... the Holy Grail War wouldn’t matter. A Beast of pure destruction would be here, making it all moot. She wasn’t sure there was anyone capable of beating something like that in the Holy Grail War. Maybe the King of Conquerors, but... she couldn’t be sure.

All she knew is that she had to improve this situation, or at least stop it getting worse. By any means necessary.

Turning away from her thoughts, she stared into the eyes of the fragments around her. They looked stern, some anger in their eyes, but not one looked resigned. They all wished to fight against this doomed fate.

And by everything she held dear, she would help them.

“You wouldn’t bring me here and show me this without  good reason. And I’m certain you’re not hoping I can just stop this getting worse on my own.” Her eyes shone with determination. “What do you need?”

Pleased and surprised smiles sprung between some of them. The wild haired blonde slugged her sister’s arm, laughing loudly. “See! Told you it would work.”

“Well, let us not doubt you again.” Artoria spoke drily, rubbing her arm before tuning the girl out and focusing on the Servant. “We will need two things from you. A moddified Servant Summoning Ritual and a connection to Rhongomyniad.”

Vortigern clapped his hands, bringing attention to him. “The Lance That Shines to the End of the World. We think it has the ability to either purify or destroy the Argent Energy in here. Caliburn or Avalon would be better for this, but they are well out of reach. We can tell that the lance is here, so most likely the true Artoria has been summoned to the Holy Grail War. We know it’s difficult to ask this of you, but we need you to be on... friendly terms with Artoria.” He pinched his hands together, his face wincing from his request.

And honestly that was the biggest problem she would have to deal with. But deal with it she shall.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan considered. “Yes, Rhongomyniad ought to be able to deal with this. What of the Summoning Ritual? All the seven Servants have been summoned and not even I can go against that restriction.”

Ironwood’s fragment explained, “That’s where the modifications we made come in. Instead of summoning a Servant from the Throne of Heroes, you’re going to summon one of us. They will be less a Servant but more of a particularly powerful familiar.”

“Skirting the edges of the Grail War’s rules... Very well. Which of you am I to summon?”

The fragment of the Dovahkiin snapped her fingers, smiling smugly. “As the eldest and strongest soul here, I will be the one to go. Considering I still have my connection to Akatosh and the Thu’um, I’m the best choice. And even then, I can still call on the skills of the others, so I’ll be more like a Composite Servant than anything.”

Her smile froze and she dropped the posh voice as her eye started twitching. “And let’s be honest, Artoria is not going to be happy if you summon a different her or worse, Vortigern.”

“Yes, it would make things difficult.” Morgan accepted the point quite easily. “Now, take me out of here and I will get on with it immediately.”

“Alright. We’re counting on you, Morgan.” Yang responded, the others all nodding at her. The Dragonborn approached, standing right before the woman. As Morgan felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder from the back, The Dragonborn’s eyes sharpened and her lips turned into a thin line, giving one final warning in a deadly voice. “And don’t try anything we wouldn’t approve.”

And with that, fire, ice and lighting crept up her arm and covered her body. Once the Caster opened her eyes, she was once more inside her workshop.

“After that, I made the summoning ritual by using your sword as a catalyst and managed to bring the Dragonborn into this world. It was her that warned me of your dropping Aura levels and your battle with Archer, after the whole destruction ended up killing my familiar.”

Jaune blankly stared at nothing.

“Impressive, hey, Vomit Boy? The Queen of the Fae sure is a pretty good Servant.”

“Pretty good?” The aforementioned Queen of the Fae turned to the Dragonborn, incredulously saying, “I managed to blur the rules of the Grail War and summon a being with just as much power as a Servant. You even have your own Noble Phantasms! I’m the best is what I am!”

Once again, he just kept staring.

Noticing his silence and the look on his face, Yang leaned over the table and shut his mouth, before snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. “Vomit Boy? Jaune?” She turned back to Morgan when he failed to respond, a flat look on her face as she spoke to the silver-haired beauty. “I think you broke him.”

“...There’s a demon inside me?” Jaune coarsely whispered. There was fear, despair and so much emotion on his voice. The two felt winces come to them at the expression.

Morgan raised her hands before him, catching his attention. “Not really a demon, more a gathering of demonic power. And it’s not inside you, it’s on the sword.” She shrugged mirthlessly, a small and strained smile on her blue lips. “And at the point it is, it really isn’t a problem unless you turn into a megalomaniac out of nowhere and decide it’s worth the trouble.”

“...How are you two so calm about this!?” He yelled, rising out of his seat and slamming his hands on the table. Anger showed in his face, a snarl on his lips, but his eyes showed clear panic and fear. “There is Argent Energy in my sword! That thing is made by torturing human souls!”

Morgan’s previous smile turned to a frown, sharp eyes glaring at him. She spoke firmly, yet not unkindly. “We know, Jaune. But Xiao-Long has had to deal with it for two years at this point, and I have the guarantee that Rhongomyniad is going to deal with it. I just need time to find the Einzbern Master that summoned Arthur’s daughter.”

Her eyes softened as she put a hand on top of his and squeezed it in comfort. “We’re not ignoring the problem. We just can’t deal with it immediately.”

Jaune stared deep into her blue eyes, his own still wide in panic. But, the longer he stared, the more he felt he needed to calm down. Lowering his head, he mumbled an apology, his anger abated. Of course they wouldn’t ignore something like this. He just needed to calm down and deal with this at it’s own time.

Yang blinked as she realized one thing Morgan said. She shook her head a few times, mouthing the words silently before giving up with a shrug and turning to Morgan. “Sorry, Arthur’s daughter?”

“Artoria Pendragon.” Jaune explained for her sake. “I saw her with Rhongomyniad earlier tonight.”

Yang just looked even more confused by his words, her eyes switching to and from the other occupants at the table. The Caster simply winked back, prompting the dragonkin to laugh loudly.

Jaune raised an eyebrow at the two. “What?” He didn’t say anything stupid, did he?

“Nothing, nothing. Hehe. Hmm.” Yang put a hand on her chest, giggling all the while. Resting her grinning face on her hands as she layed her head on the table, Yang looked at him with eyes filled with mirth but also joy. Of being out in the real world or of seeing him again, Jaune didn’t know, but he knew that, as he sat back down on his seat, he was damn grateful for her being here.

“Holy Grail War’s pretty much on our palm, eh Vomit Boy?” She boasted, the pride of a Nord shining clear through her words.

“Don’t get so cocky.” Morgan tutted as she sat beside the girl, a cup of tea in her hands. She took an apreciative sip before continuing, her eyes closed all the while. When they opened, she shot them a sharp gaze, boring into the two blondes who straightened their bodies as they paid attention to the Caster’s words. “It is true that, with our group being essentially three Servants fighting as one, we are in a perilous position. We are the most powerful group in the War, so that will make it so the other Masters seek to form alliances against us.”

“And while you are very powerful Yang-” The Queen of Orkney gazed directly into the Dragonborn’s eyes, cold blue piercing into vivid violet- “Do remember that you are a Composite Servant, and a foreigner to this world as well. No matter how strong you were in your world, a Servant’s strength is depleted in case their story is largely unknown or forgotten, as is your case.”

“Composite Servant?” Jaune cut in, half out of curiosity and confusion at the term, half to prevent Mount Yang from erupting. She looked red faced enough. “But isn’t Yang the spirit of my sword or something like that?”

“No.” Was the curt answer, surprisingly from Yang herself. She looked to him and Jaune recoiled a little when he saw her eyes had changed to a familiar brown. Weird. He couldn’t quite place them. “Not even Morgan can physically manifest the spirit of your sword, that’s just impossible for someone who isn’t the wielder. Something you need to work on, by the way.

“Instead, we did something akin to fusing all our souls into a singular being who was then summoned as a Heroic Spirit, a shadow of their true body manifest in the real world in a body made out of Ether. This allowed for one of us to physically manifest, but our skills and powers are all in hand’s reach.” She(?) pointed to herself(?), Jaune’s mind tripping over itself as it tried to recognize who he was speaking to.

“And as for our power, it seems that, for all the fame some of us have in this world, we have been weakened by the anonimity of most of us. Aside from a few select people in here, we are footnotes in the History of the Humanity. Though, I imagine we aren’t any weaker thanks to you having told so many stories to the knights of Camelot. So, good job on that, huntsman.” The words ended with a small smirk and a look in the eyes that made it much easier to realise who it was.

And it made Jaune smile widely. “Kay!”

Kay The Sharp-Tongued let out a prideful laugh as he took the blonde by the shoulders and dragged him down, pressing Yang’s fist into Jaune’s hair and rubbing it. “Took you long enough to realise it was me, idiot. Don’t go telling me you forgot me so easily after just six months away from Camelot. By the way, I don’t have much time, dragongirl’s impatient as hell, so thanks for taking my place in that joust. I would have died from embarassement if Rowena didn’t cheer on me. Okay, bye.”

Blinking for a moment, her eyes suddenly returned to their normal violets before they closed in satisfaction. Rising up from her chair and stretching her arms, Yang released a small sigh of annoyance before she threw her thumb at the door, a very familiar grin on her face, one that made Jaune shudder. It was her getting excited for a fight. “Alright, now that we caught you up on the whole story, it’s best if we deal with the problem at the door.”

And there was that to deal with. He had noticed the presence a while ago so it made sense they would too. Rising from the table and grabbing the dragonbone sword from Morgan’s hand, he made his way to the front door of their apartment, not noticing Yang vanishing in a spark of red flames. Opening the door but keeping the bolt locked, Jaune layed his eyes on the two men outside, one of which he easily recognised.  His pure yellow eyes met with Jaune’s own ocean blue, both staring each other for a moment.

“Saber. I was wondering when you would come.”

“Good evening, Shielder.” The Servant responded with a light smile.

“Ahem.”

The sudden cough turned Jaune’s attention to the man beside the Servant. Slicked back, bright yellow hair sat neatly atop his head, sharp teal eyes that spoke of experience and arrogance. His clothes were well made, seeming more like a priest’s long robe of a dark blue color with darker lines runnig through the center and branching off. It was held shut by a silver string, crosses of similar color sewn into the bottom of his sleeves. The three red marking on his hand marked him as a Master of the war, though one of them was smudged. The one who had been hiding in the hotel, many floors above them.

“I am Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, one of the Twelve Lords of Clock Tower and Master of the Saber Servant of the Fourth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. I come here tonight without any intentions for battle.” His eyes slid to the sword in Jaune’s hand, the blade inching back and moving behind his leg. The Lord’s eyes soon raised to his own.

“I have come to bargain.”

TFW you use an old document to post Jaune's Profile and only notice a whole week late T-T

Seriously, there is so much wrong with that profile, I've been punching myself in the face for days.

In any case, I'll just fix it later.

This chapter though. Oof. Rewrites, man.  They're bloody killing me. Even if I'm starting to get satisfied with all this.

Ps. I didn't learn my lesson from last week, so I made another profile, this time for our dear sword spirit. Oh, and the '???' are spoiler stuff, like Praxus84 did with Fate/Zero Paradox, so it will take a while to reveal what it is.

Composite Servant Class: Pretender

True Name: Yang Xiao Long  The Spirits of The Nameless Sword.

A.K.A: The Last Dragonborn, Lone Wanderer, Invincible Girl, Courier Six, Lion’s Pride, King of Knights, Knights of the Round Table, etc.

Sex: Undefined Gender.

Origin: Nameless Blade/Transcendent Sword

Region: Remnant, Capital Wasteland, Mojave Wasteland, etc.

Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Strength: A  Endurance: C  Agility: B  Mana: B-  Luck: B  NP: EX

Class Skills

Aura (Dragonsoul): A Skill granted to any huntsman from the world of Remnant. The manifestation of the warrior’s soul, projected around the body to protect them from harm. Increases the Strength, Agility and Endurance Stats and increases rate of healing. Depending on Semblance and experience, it is possible to share one’s Aura with others in order to heal them.

B: This Skill has been inherited from Jaune Arc as the existance of this Servant is only possible due to the countless time he has fed the manifestation of his soul to the forces of the Nameless Blade. Despite the many times it has come in contact with Aura, and the few Aura users that compose it’s Saint Graph, this Servant has a lower Ranking in this Skill due to having a generally lower reserve of it.

Divinity: Is the measure of whether one has Divine Spirit aptitude or not. At high levels, one is treated as a mixed race of a Divine Spirit, and the level declines when the Heroic Spirit's own rank as a Monster or Demonic Beast raises. It can also decrease due to one's dislike for the gods. Those who have A-rank Divinity or above have reached the Throne of Gods.

D: Yang Xiao-Long, The Last Dragonborn, would in fact have a B Rank in this Skill due to her connection to Akatosh, God of Time and Father of Dragons. However, due to being mixed with various pure humans and some who have no interest in gods, the Ranking of this Skill has tanked considerably.

Existance Outside the Domain: A Skill that denotes a being descended from the void of space.

B: Despite many of their component’s being humans and creatures from other dimensions, there are numerous beings that have been born under the veil of Gaia’s sky, lowering the Rank of this Skill.

Dragon: The Pinnacle of Phantasmal Species.

A: Yang Xiao-Long, Artoria Pendragon and ??? all carry this trait, so it has been passed down to this form by their blessings, even if relunctantly in the latter’s case.

???

Personal Skills

Berserk: Is a composite Skill of Valor and Mad Enhancement. Grants the user the ability to negate mental interference such as pressure, confusion and fascination. It also has the bonus effect of increasing melee damage.

C: There are some within the Saint Graph that could be called berserkers in their own worlds, who always looked forwards to a good fight and did not allow for any interference from others. The low ranking is due to the fact that it comes from the few Nords of Skyrim within the Nameless Blade, primaraly The Dragonborn and some of the Companions,, while the rest of the souls tend to be more refined in their fights.

Eternal Arms Mastery: Mastership of combat arts has reached the point of being said to be unrivaled in one's era. By complete the merging of mind, body, and technique, it is possible to make use of full fighting skills even when under the influence of any sort of mental hindrance.

A+: Almost every single human that comprises this being has average skills in swordsmanship, with numerous others being proficient in almost every art of combat, due to the presence of The Knights of The Round Table, The Lyons’ Pride, The Courier and The Companions. From spears and swords, to guns and fists, even magic is wielded with mastery by this Servant.

You Have My Sword; For We Are One: The ability to call upon the physical and magical Skills of the souls that reside within the Transcendent Sword.

A: Aside from Noble Phantasms such as ‘Excalibur’, any and all abilities that the souls that compose the Saint Graph can be called upon at any moment, but they can only be used one at a time. There is also the possibility, if so desired at the moment, that the personality of the soul called upon can manifest in the body for the duration of the Skill’s usage.

Noble Phantasms

Anti-Unit(Self)~Anti-Fortress Rank B+~A++ "Thu’um, The Voice of The Apex Predator"

The Tongue of Dovah, The Dragon Shouts. An ancient language wielded by dragons and men alike for the purpose of battle, be it for protection or destruction.

Dragon Shouts are capable of a great many feats, from rendering mountains asunder to calling down lighting storms that destroy entire cities. Most Dragon are formed by three Words of Power, with some rare exceptions.

The Dragon Shouts currently known are: Become Ethereal(Feim, Zii, Gron); Clear Skies(Look Vah Koor); Dragon Aspect(Mul Qah Diiv); Dragon Rend(Joor Zah Frul);

Unrelenting Force (Fus Roh Dah); Fire Breath(Yol Toor Shul); Storm Call(Strun Bah Qo); Summon Durnehviir(Dur Neh Viir); Whirlwind Sprint(Wuld Nah Kest);

Call of Valor - Hun Kaal Zoor); Dismay - Faas Ru Maar; Slow Time - Tiid Klo; Frost Breath - Fo Krah Diin

??? EX (Barrier)

Chapter Text

Tires loudly screeched as a luxurious car dangerously drove in a mountain-side highway, it’s driver ignoring every single safety law that had ever been invented.

And inside, Irisviel Von Einzbern was sweating bullets.

“See!? See!? This beauty goes pretty fast, right!?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, back at the castle, I could only drive around the courtyard, but here I can be as free as bird!”

“Mhm.”

“From all the toys Kiritsugu bought me, this one is my favorite!”

“Mhm.”

Irisviel still kept her smile, despite how strained it was.

She wasn’t as oblivious as many believed her to be, and honestly, it wasn’t at all difficult to notice the sour mood that Lancer had ever since they had left the warehouse district.

There were a lot of reasons for why she could be like this, from her interrupted fight with Saber, Archer’s insults, or a whole sleuth of more... intimate reasons.

She thought that she could distract the Servant with her driving (Irisviel knew very well that she wasn’t exactly a safe driver, the times where Kiritsugu prayed for divine protection whenever he entered her car being a testament to her abilities) and get Lancer out of her funk with something exciting.

Her plan... was not working.

Ever since they got in the car, Lancer was at best mumbling something or completely unresponsive at. God, it’s so awkward. I almost wish a Servant attacked us right now.

A low sigh suddenly left the mouth of the blonde woman at the passanger’s seat, her shoulders dropping and a shamed expression on her face. Leaning back on her seat, Lancer turned back to Irisviel with a sadly asking, “I’m making this awkward, aren’t I?”

“No, no!” Irisviel hurriedly answered, shaking her hands in front of the woman’s face to emphasize her point. They soon went back to the wheel when the car threatened to take a swan dive out of the road. Even then, Irisviel did not stop. “I can understand that you’re not feeling well, hell, I wouldn’t in your shoes, I was just making conversation, cuz I don’t get to talk to many people and Ithinkofyouasafrien-”

She rambled and rambled, panickedly listing off reasons to assuage Lancer’s concern and guilt. She talked and talked, gesturing with her hands and shaking her head to emphasize her random words, her lack of attention making the car swerve dangerously on the road.

It only stopped when Lancer put her left hand on the wheel.

“It’s alright, Irisviel.” She spoke gently, making the silver-haired homunculus pause. For as much as Lancer’s small smile may have showed her efforts had paid off a little, her eyes, focused on nothing but the road, were still lightly downturned. Even then, her voice was calm and serene like a lake. “You don’t have to make excuses for my sour mood. In any case, I should be the one to apologize, considered how I have worried you.”

“Lancer, no, you don’t have to apologize for anything.” Irisviel took back the wheel, her right hand laying over the Servants shoulder. She squeezed it in a show of comfort, even if it hurt her hand, what with Lancer’s high Endurance. “I can’t claim to understand how you feel, I don’t have any siblings and all, but... I know she hurt you.”

“I understand that you may want to keep to yourself after seeing her again, old wounds being opened and all... but I think you should talk about it.” Smiling as an idea came to her, Irisviel slapped the wheel, accidentally buzzing the horn. Didn’t stop her turning to her friend with a determined grin. “Yeah. Rant to me. Insult her or yell about what she did, just put it out there! There’s no good in bottling it up!”

It may not have been much, knowing Lancers politeness she couldn’t insult a fly(except if it’s name was Rider), and wouldn’t be too harsh if she did say anything.

The woman looked surprised at Irisviel’s idea, looking at her with wide eyes. She turned and crossed her arms, a pensive look on her face as she put one hand to her chin.

“I wasn’t really keeping to myself... No. Maybe I was.” Shaking her head wistfully before turnig to Irisviel with a questioning gaze. At seeing the homunculus nod supportively, The King of Britain took a deep breath.

And let out her turmoil.

“SHE’S SUCH A BITCH!”

Irisviel jumped in her seat as Lancer exploded, a hundred insults being thrown at Morgan, from swears she had heard before to some Irisviel had never even heard of. I know it was my idea but I’m really glad that Illya isn’t here to hear this. Kiri would have a heart attack if she learned all this.

Mount Artoria went off for a while. She was waving her arms around, her fists clenched so tight she told Lancer to summon her gauntlets back lest she pierce her hands. Even then, the sound of the metal screeching as she punched the air while ranting of every night she spent awake due to the depression her sister had forced upon her.

She hadn’t thought possible, but Irisviel was feeling genuinely sorry for the Caster Servant. If the two fought, Irisviel could only imagine that Lancer would finish her sister off by wringing her neck. That or something worse.

When the Servant finally ran out of steam, huffing and puffing in her seat as her sharp eyes glared at the road ahead, Irisviel released a sigh of relief. She looked over to the woman, who had crossed her arms and seemed to be trying to mantain her irritated expression, though she soon heaved a breath and let her face relax as a small smile spread across her face and leaned into her seat. “Strangely, this was far more soothing than I expected. I told myself I wouldn’t bottle my feelings again but it seems that old habits die hard.”

The Servant smiled towards Irisviel, gratitude clear on her tone. “Thank you, Irisviel. That... was nice.”

The homunculus simply chuckled, her eyes closed as she smiled back. “What are friends for?”

...

“I’m sorry for saying this but please pay attention to the road!”

“Ah! Sorry!”

“News just in as an inexplicable explosion has devasted the warehouse district in the coastal area of Fuyuki.” The newscaster spoke directly to the camera a serious look on his face. “Numerous metal containers carrying thousands worth of merchandise were found destroyed and melted, with an enormous crater found in the location. The police force is still investigating the ocurrence.

“All this right after the many murders and dissapearances of women and children has driven some citizens into a frenzy, with one even taking a mantle as a superhero vigilante; the recently surged Shielder. Any and all information citizens may have is asked to be shared to the police force for an investigation curren-.” With a sudden motion, the TV was turned silent.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald leaned back into his seat and drew a deep, long breath, his right hand massaging his temple. Turning to the muscular man kneeling beside him, he felt his face crease in disgust. “Why did you not finish him off? You made me waste a Command Seal that could have better been used and still failed to kill the Master of Caster!”

“And for that I apologize.” Saber spoke, that damned smile still in place but a little strained at the moment. Even he had his limits. “But I swear to make up for this mistake, and to bring you the heads of Lancer, Caster and Shiel-” He was cut off when Kayneth slammed a hand against the armrest of the couch.

“You don’t need to promise that! It’s a necessary step to win the Grail War!” Kayneth yelled, his other hand tightly gripping the glass vial in his pocket after Saber mentioned that man. “You made a contract with me for the Holy Grail but instead of defeating our enemies you allow them to live on, and now three of them are resting a few floors below us!”

“My apologies my Lord. However, should Caster and her fellows attempt to attack us, I shall be more than sufficient to get rid of all of them.” The Servant of the Sword rose to his full height, golden eyes shining with power staring directly back at his Master. Despite his ego and pride, Kayneth felt a shudder go through his body. “I will win the Holy Grail War; that, I swear on my honor as a knight. Your Knight.”

Taking a deep breath, Kayneth palmed his face, his mouth covered by white setin. “I would be more reassured had it not been by that maniac’s display. To imagine I deigned to ignore such an obvious threat living right beneath our noses. What was I thinking?”

“The Master of Caster. Shielder is what they call him.” Saber spoke as he turned to the now silent TV screen, showing a murky photograph of a man in a hooded, white cape. “I must admit I’m surprised he would do something like this despite the Holy Grail War. Every night, going out alone to stop crimes and aid the innocent. A valiant man.”

“A foolish actor. But one we can no longer ignore.” Kayneth released a sigh as he stood up, tightening the gloves on his fingers and checking the vial inside his breast pocket. So long as he had it with him, not even a Servant would be able to harm him.  

“We shall go down and meet with this Shielder.” His voice spoke with derision, his face twisting in disgust and apprehension alike. “We must keep a close eye on him. He is the best weapon against Archer, and I will not lose it so easily.”

But he is still much too dangerous to be kept alive... especially after the war ends.

“Is that wise?” A young voice asked from behind him. Not with worry, but derision.

Turning back, Kayneth felt his tension slipping away as he layed eyes on his wife, wearing a puffy, buttoned white shirt and an adorable red ribbon below her neck, beautifully combining with her red heeled shoes beneath sharp black pants ending below her knees. Sola-Ui, with her striking red hair and pretty brown eyes, looked wonderful no matter what she wore. How he wished she returned his affection...

“He could be expecting you.” She warned in a cold tone. “If he is strong enough to battle a Servant on his own, it’s impossible to imagine what he can do with Caster by his side.”

Kayneth simply smirked in response. “Do not worry so much, my dear. We will simply meet with him and after he defeats Archer, get rid of him entirely.”

“What about the second girl?” She reminded him with a pointed look, recling on her own plushed chair. “They already broke the rules, if she is an extra Servant summoned by the two of them, so how can you be certain that they won’t attack on sight?”

Closing his eyes with a prideful smile, Kayneth crossed his arms “Yes, it is a possible occurence. However, I have the perfect response to such.” He smiled smugly as one of his hands picked out na item from his breast pocket.

Holding out a vial of silver liquid, he spoke with pride. “Volumen Hydrargyrum, the Supreme Mystic Code of ultimate protection and offense, created by my own hands. Swords, bullets, magic, nothing can touch me so long as I have this.” He laughed loudly, his whole body shaking in delight. Clenching his free hand into a tight fist, he proclaimed to his beau, “In the case they attack, they will learn the supreme power of Lord El-Melloi.”

Sola-Ui simply stared at him with flat eyes and a frown. Throwing her hands in the air as she stood, she spoke, “Fine. Just be careful. I’m not interested on being shamed by any pathetic displays coming from you.”

The smile on Kayneth’s face strained for a moment, but he was quick to supress it. “Your worry is unnecessary. But still endearing. Now,” The noble turned to the quiet Servant, whom turned his eyes away from Sola-Ui, annoyance clear in his face. Something Kayneth made sure to remember. “Let us be off, Saber. We shall see the character of this Shielder.”

Kariya Matou was having a shitty night.

WHERE THE HELL IS SHE!?

Once more, he slipped in one of the many puddles formed by the rain, only not faceplanting because he managed to catch himself on a dying lamppost, the light flickering above his head. Even then, he had to grit his teeth to support the pain rocketing in his insides, the worms under his skin wriggling and gnawing on his body.

He snarled for a moment, taking his time to sit on his anger at everything that had gone wrong tonight.

One thing he had known ever since he first summoned her was that Berserker was strong. In any other Grail War, she was most likely to be the favourite to win.

But Archer was stronger. Tokiomi’s Servant was better than his.

Like always, that prick was given the better hand.

But of course, his luck just had to be even worse than he first thought.

Because there was someone in this war that could fight Archer on equal ground. Someone who had bested the arrongant asshole in swordfighting and Noble Phantasm alike.

And Kariya hadn’t sumoned him.

Snarling harder than ever, he lifted his head with great effort and went back to shambling his way towards the small signature of magical energy he could feel from his Servant. She had already eluded him once, running when he got close, but this time she seemed to have given up on getting away. Good. He was getting tired.

Stepping into the narrow alleyway, he paused for moment at the sight before him. Some of his anger left him, replaced with a sense of reluctant compassion at the figure sitting with her back against a heavily damaged wall, multiple fist-sized holes with spiderweb-cracks sprouting from them. Her hand was bowed, her face hidden by her long hair and her knees held tightly to her chest.

He pushed his emotions down, putting on a deep frown and stumbled towards her again. Sitting beside her and trying to catch his breath and push down the squirming worms beneath his skin. The two spent a good five minutes without talking to each other, just listening to the sound of the rainwater falling gently on the ground. Once in a while, there would be the quiet shuffle of cloth or the remarkably loud of grinding metal as one of the two tried to speak before they gave up.

Sighing in frustration, Kariya moved his head to the left, glancing at Berserker’s form. Closing his eyes, he made the jump. “Wanna explain what the hell happened back there?”

Berserker just hugged her knees even tighter, drawing on herself and making her seem even smaller. A small sniffle left her, accompanied by a small “I’m sorry.”

Sighing once again, he drew up his only responsive leg and layed his arm atop it. Glaring at the sky, he spoke to her, anger tinging his voice. “I won’t lie and say I’m not mad. I was hoping that you could beat Tokiomi’s Servant with those stats of yours. But I’m mostly just confused.”

Fully turning to her, his eyes narrowed as he asked, “Who was that guy? Why are you like this after seeing him?”

She stayed quiet, refusing to answer him, only glancing at him. When his anger raised and he prepared to give up on the matte, her eyes closed and she quietly muttered, “Sir...”

“Huh?” Kariya raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to Berserker as he rubbed an ear with his finger. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Sighing herself, she quickly slammed her head against the wall, forming another crack on the wall and making Kariya flinch. Not only from the sound of her head breaking the cement but also from the solemn look on her face. “He is Sir Jaune Arc. My mentor. I know it should be impossible but I would recognize that face anywhere. That man... is the First of The Knights of The Round Table, Jaune Arc... The Knight of Compassion.”

Kariya’s jaw hung looselly as he heard it, his mind fumbling over itself as he tried to comprehend the words Berserker had just spoken. Sputtering as his tongue tied in his mouth, Kariya held his chest in a tight grip as a couching fit overcame him, bits of blood falling out of his open mouth. Thumping his chest, he turned to Berserker with wide, panicked eyes. “WHAT!? That doesn’t make sense! How would he just conveniently be here in the middle of the Grail War!?”

He wasn’t asking just because he couldn’t believe her. It was hard to imagine that a Knight of The Round Table could be alive in an era that had already surpassed Camelot’s fall by centuries. No, that wasn’t the only reason for his question. It was also the fact he couldn’t believe his luck would be so bad a goddamn Knight of The Round Table would involved in the Holy Grail War at the same time as Kariya was.

How am I meant to win the Grail now?

“The only way I can imagine he could be here would is mother.” Berserker explained, noticing the turmoil inside her Master due to their connection but not knowing the deeper reasons for it. “She used a Geass in order to banish him from Camelot. He most likely ended up here after that.”

Kariya slumped down beside her, his face contorting in panic and frustration. How? How could all this happen right when I have to fight? Tokiomi’s stronger than me. That knight is stronger than me. I can’t...

I can’t win.

I can’t do anything.

I can’t save he-

“Now, now. It’s a tad too early to give up, Matou Master.”

The pair jumped at the sudden voice, neither having registered a new presence, too busy wallowing in their despair. When they looked up, both saw a man in a yellow raincoat holding up a parasol to stop the rain from catching the two. His hood was pulled down, revealing a smooth blonde hair pulled back into a horsetail and a handsome smile. The man had his eyes closed in what seemed to be a comforting gesture, but Velvet tensed as she noticed a discrepancy.

It was the smile of a predator.

The mysterious man let go of the parasol, Berserker quickly catching it, being wary of the stranger who looked at her Master with that sly grin. Kariya receded a bit, pressing himself to the wall and calling upon the Blade Wing Worms inside his body. They flew up, the buzzing from their wings reverbrating in the quiet alley. They may not be much against a proper Magus, but some rando shouldn’t be a pro-

There was a blade poking his chest.

“Dear Father In Heaven, the two of you are so tense.” The very dangerous man casually spoke, somehow not reacting nor being affected by Berserker gripping his throat with her free hand. She squeezed, intent on killing the man with the long knife, but something was stopping her from breaking his neck. No. She wasn’t being stopped.

She just didn’t have the Strength to kill him.

The blade suddenly retracted, dissapearing into the unnatural pitch-black darkness of the raincoat’s inside. He lowered the once armed hand and leaned away from the mangled Master, his head turning to Velvet and his grin growing thinner. “I’m beginning to think we started on the wrong foot. Shall we... try again?”

His eyes opened for the first time, glaring directly at Velvet, twin orbs of angry ocean blue.

Ocean. An apt word.

It was the best way to explain the sudden pressure both of them felt weighing upon their entire bodies.

Kariya couldn’t breathe, despite his jaw hanging loosely, every attempt to fill his lungs being met with nothing but chokes. The few Worms that left Kariya’s body immediately crumpling to pieces falling to the floor, the rest inside his body suddenly not moving anymore. Velvet trembled in place, a primordial fear in every human being awakening inside her. She thought she had felt it when facing Aelle of Sussex or when she fought her King in the fields of Camlann. But this... this was so much worse than anything she had ever felt.

As the pressure disappeared and the Master-Servant pair could breathe again, the man brought both his hands together in a tight clasp, leaving them in the open to sign he would not arm himself any longer. But they knew better than to test him again.

“Now, I apologize for the violence but I cannot find it in myself to stay still when someone threatens me. Especially with bugs so filthy. I don’t imagine they fell so good when their home is your flesh.” The last words were directed to Kariya, the man flinching as he felt the mystery man’s attention settling solely on him. His eyes looked up, his right one widening as he beheld the true face of the monster before him.

The wide grin that streched past his lips and split his face in two, the slanted eyes of putrid yellow and slitted pupils. Everything was there for a single second, but it all reminded Kariya of a snake about to feast. And feast it did, with one single question.

“How interested are you in getting rid of their ‘Father’, Matou Master?”

“I have come to bargain.”

Jaune stared at the blonde haired nobleman at his doorstep. “Excuse me, bargain?”

“Especifically I have come to bargain an alliance between the two of us. It is necessary if we both wish to stay in this building. I have my workshop and, as a magus and Master of the Heroic Spirit of Spells and Sorcery, you certainly have your own. To avoid sabotage and destruction of either, it is imperative the we communicate our demands to each other.” His eyes narrowed. “Reasonable demands.”

“Right... Just let me check something.” He said to both as he closed the door. Turning back to the kitchen, he yelled, “So should we let them in?”

Morgan, back to her usual attire, lazily held her weapon with one hand, the axehead resting on her shoulder. “I can’t see the harm. I am more than capable of dealing with whatever that little magus throws at us and you can deal with Saber with far more confidence now.” Dismissively waving her hand, she turned her eyes away from the door. “Let them in.”

Unlocking the door, Jaune brought both inside. Saber summoned his swords, Jaune and Morgan tensing for a moment before he layed both atop the kitchen counter. Following suit, the knight and the queen layed their weapons against it, the former gesturing to the table for all to sit down. Despite serving them the same food that had been eaten earlier, neither of the men deigned to eat, Kayneth thinking it was poisoned and Diarmuid just standing behind his Master.

Seating beside Morgan, the two Servant-Master duos stared at each other, neither starting the conversation just yet.

Kayneth gave the man opposite him an appraising look. Judging by the sneer on his face, the man was not impressed. Taking it in stride, Jaune spoke first. “So, do you mind explaining the sudden visit? We knew about each other for a few days now, but you never bothered talking with us before.”

The mage averted his eyes for a moment, a frown on his face as he took a deep breath, blue eyes meeting his own.

“I took such actions because I believed that communication was unnecessary.” Kayneth said cagely. “We are enemies in the Holy Grail War. Opposing Masters with their own Servants. There was no reason to speak to each other. Until now.”

“Translation: I summoned a Saber, a Class perfect to counter act a Caster and got overconfident.” Morgan drawled beside him, a vein popping in the Lord’s forehead. “And now that you saw Archer’s Noble Phantasms and how my Master directly counters it, you came here to suggest an alliance.”

Diarmuid’s eyes narrowed as they shot towards the fellow Servant. “Refrain from insulting my Lord, Caster. You and your Master may be powerful, but that does not make you invincible.”

“Okay, okay, let’s calm down.” Jaune raised his hands, trying to stop any violence. Turning to the mage and setting his hands atop the table, Jaune said, “Look, it’s in our best interests if we just stick to a truce for now. We don’t know each other and, like you said, we’re enemies in this war. If we made an alliance here, it would fall apart almost instantly.”

The man raised an eyebrow at the last part but still nodded. “That is true. Then we shall take this meeting to discuss terms. It is not something that can be delayed.” He brought a paper parchment out of his sleeve. “Here you will find the terms of the alliance I had thought of when I first learned of you. We shall remove, add and change them as we see fit.” The noble unrolled the paper and slid it across the table.

Snacthing it before he could reach out for it, Morgan began reading the writings within, a pair of glasses adjusted on her eyes. He had no idea where she got them.

“...Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed further and further the more she read, her eyebrows drawing down and giving her a truly furious visage. Slapping the paper down, she turned to the mage. “Did you honestly believe any of this would qualify as benefit to anyone but yourself!? No monkey would agree to such stupid terms. Look at this.”

She leaned towards Jaune to show him the paper. “Immediate retreat of the hotel. Revealing of Servant’s True Name. Hand over any Mystic Codes!?”

“...You got real confident, didn’t you?” He sent a flat look to the other man. Pinching his nose and releasing a sigh, Jaune said, “Look, since it’s just a truce we can do away with most of what’s in here. The terms I want are the following.”

He brought up his hands and counted off with his fingers. “One: We will not fight in the premises of the Fuyuki City Hyatt Hotel. Two: We won’t practice dangerous magic in public or in ways that endanger the lives of the people not involved in the war. You can keep any fortifications and traps you may have made already,” He backpedaled when the man made to argue. “But dispell any that actively endager innocents. And for third... help us find the Einzbern Master and the Lancer Servant.” He finished with a nod, gesturing for the other Master to give his thoughts.

Kayneth leaned back, a hand massaging his chin and a curious look on his face. “That is... an interesting set of requests. No demands that could reveal weaknesses of mine, nothing about my Servant’s or my own abilites. The only thing relating to the war that you asked was the Einzbern Master.” His eyes narrowed. “Could it be you have some... unfinished bussiness with them?”

At Jaune’s silence, he scoffed before intertwining his hands. “Very well. Your terms are easy enough to agree to. I shall keep my word as Head of the El-Melloi family. Now to your end of the bargain. I want assurance that you will not harm me and mine other than Saber. Me and my... collaborator are to be spared any attempts by your or your Servant’s hands. Second, if you are to face Saber at any point, only one of you are allowed to fight him.”

Morgan jumped out of her seat and slammed her hands on the table. It creaked ominously. “What do you think you’re saying!? You can’t possibly believe we would ever accept that!?” She glared at El-Melloi, the old noble tensing from the gaze. “A clause that binds us to a one-on-one duel with a Servant of the strongest class in the Grail War is a death sentence.”

“Your Master is clearly strong enough to take on a Servant on his own.” El-Melloi said to Morgan, completely ignoring Jaune. “We all saw his display against Archer; if he can do all that without your aid, then I refuse to have you, him and that other girl fighting my Servant on his own!”

“Right... Saber saw us earlier.” Jaune muttered, shrinking away from Morgan’s icy gaze.

“My Lord. If I may, I wish to speak with them by my own.”

Their eyes turned to Saber, who had bowed his head to his Master. Kayneth did not seem keen on letting his Servant talk, his teeth gritted and his lips drawing down before throwing his hands in the air and crossing his arms, a heavy huff of air leaving him. Saber in turn, raised his head and looked directly into Jaune’s eyes before pointing to the side. Not waiting for an answer, Saber walked off and waited at the balcony outside.

Jaune and Morgan looked to each other, the Caster subtly shaking her head. Jaune clenched his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before getting up to join the Servant outside, his Aura spreading over his body, ready for any attack. He could feel the eyerolls from both Kayneth and Morgan, who turned to each other, both disdainfully muttering, “Knights.”

Opening the door to the balcony, Jaune stepped outside before leaving it open, a clear passage for Morgan. Standing beside the Servant who layed his crossed arms on the handrail below them.

A long stretch of silence spread through them, disturbed only by the wind and the sounds of their neighbors. Suddenly, a sharp and quick bark of laughter escaped Saber’s mouth.

Turning his eyes onto the blonde beside him, Saber breezily spoke, “Caster must be worried I will try to kill you. I can feel her eyes on me.”

“Can’t blame her. Like she said, your Magic Resistance skill makes you the bigger threat. But.. I think it’ll be fine.” When Saber sent him a questioning look, he distractedly said, “You sort of remind me of someone I knew. Got the same feel as him. If you’re anything like Percival was, I got nothing to worry about.” He gave a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders, his hands landing on his hips as his face beamed with pride for his fellow Knight of The Round.

Percival, hm? Diarmuid kept the name in mind. Outwardly, he hummed. “Interesting. Some would call that naive.”

“Oh, no, I’m definnately gonna get yelled at later.” Jaune said jokingly, but was quick to notice Saber’s smile straining. “Wait, does he ... actually yell at you? Is he stup-?”

“It’s complicated.” Saber quickly cut in, releasing a heavy sigh. “My story isn’t one of complete loyalty. A mistake I made, one that cost me my life and my honor. And greatly shamed my former king. But we are not here to speak of my past. Only for my reason for trying to impose that last rule upon you and Caster.”

“Wait, that was you? Why?”

“Because you intrigue me, Sir Shielder.” He said, his eyes looking out at the city below them, glowing in brilliant lights. His voice was calm, his face jovial as he spoke. “The Holy Grail War is a ritual where greedy and ambitious mages from all around the world come to this city in order to battle amongst themselves, all for the chance to achieve their deepest wishes. They have their Servants kill each other, and they themselves do their best to kill anything in their path to victory. They hide away in their workshops, fortifying them, preparing themselves for an attack. They don’t care what gets caught in the crossfire of their battles. They just want the Grail.”

“But not you.” He turned his head to the man stood beside him, respect showing through in his eyes. “Ever since the war started, you have been going around the entire city, doing everything you can to help the people. I keep up with the articles about you, I have seen what you did. Taking down numerous criminal groups, foiling robberies and shakedowns, even doing things as small as aiding people find lost property.”

Saber’s voice grew more and more excited as he listed off all of his actions, much to Jaune’s embarrassment. “Where any other Magus would head to cruelty and viciousness to guarantee their victory, you stand as the very opposite of what is expected from them! I just can’t help but ask... why? Why risk yourself like this?”

Jaune stared at the man through his fingers, his shoulders hunched and face burning red. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he turned to the city below, standing side by side with the superior knight. His face was taken over by a smile as memories came back to him, of all the things he done. Of why he had done them.

“Ever since I was kid... I always wanted to be a hero. Someone that went on a big adventure, someone that people could look at and feel safe. Someone that could... make his family proud.” His eyes turned misty as he looked up to the sky, the pale moon making him remember his father’s lessons, his horrible advice, his mother’s words... And all the adventures he had.

“It was a childish dream. I needed to grow up, to learn that the road to be the hero I wanted to be was way harder than I thought. Far... bloodier.” A frown came to his lips as the words brought back... the atrocities he had committed. He dwelled on them for a moment, before the words a man bandaged head to toe said to him long ago. “But I still stuck to it. No matter how many times I fell, no matter how difficult the road was or how hard the day... I wanted to be hero.”

“I honestly can’t tell if I do it for penance, or stubbornness... or just because it’s the only thing i have left...” His eyes stared at the people below, peaceful lives moving along the flow of life, joy and content clear in their eyes, their laughter, and their smiles. And his own lips mirrored them. “...But I feel that what I’m doing... is the right thing to be done. For to give up everything one believes in, is worse than dying young.”

As he said those words, despite neither men ever being able to know, a young farm girl who saved her country felt a serene smile coming to her lips.

Saber smiled at the answer, feeling his respect towards the man beside him growing with every word. Laughing loudly, Diarmuid shook his head as he once again turned to the city lights below. “I’ll remove that last clause. It was stupid of me to try and limit you and your Servant.” The man pushed off the balcony and turned to extend his hand to the blonde. “I just hope that, in the case we ever have the chance to fight, it shall be a fair and honorable duel for the both of us, Sir...”

“Jaune. Jaune Arc.” He responded while grasping the man’s hand. “And I hope for the same, Sir Diarmuid.”

The First Spear of the Knights of Fianna and the First Knight of the Round Table smiled at each other, their hands shaking and their promise written in honor.

“Aww, that’s so cute. Shame I gotta interrupt, though.”

The two jumped at the voice that came through the door, turning to see a young woman of wild blonde hair. She was smiling smugly while behind her, Kayneth had jumped to his feet whilst Morgan held a hand before him, to stop any action the noble might take.

“Yang?” Jaune blurted out when seeing her. He had expected her to stay hidden. “Since when were you-?” She held up a hand, cutting him off.

“Not a lot of time for questions. You lot need to get out of here. Now.” Her eyes had gained a sharpness Jaune had only seen when they and Serana had faced Harkon and Alduin. One that spoke of danger and demise. “Someone rigged the whole building to blow.”

And in the silence left by her words, a loud and sharp alarm pierced through their ears.

This chapter actually gave me a lot of work, not only because of the aformentioned sickness, but also because it and the next chapter used to be one and the same. It was recently that I decided they would be better separated but I just didn't know what to do.

I knew I wanted a Artoria scene and a Kariya scene but what they were supposed to be, I had no idea.

Hopefully this is good. At the end of the day, thank you for reading this and in case I don't see you, have a good afternoon, a good evening and a good night.

P.S. Velvet's profile below. It's based on Gareth, but there's no presence of Mordred since the latter's skills come mostly from her magic core, which Vel doesn't have.

Class: Berserker

True Name: Velvet of Caerbannog

A.K.A: Knight of Treachery; Spawn of The Black Witch; Last Wielder of the Yellow Death.

Sex: Female

Origin: Legend of King Arthur.

Region: England.

Alignment: Chaotic Balanced

Attribute: Man.

Strength: A   Endurance: B  Agility: A  Mana: C++  Luck: C

Class Skills

Madness Enhancement: Raises basic parameters and strengthens one's physical abilities in exchange of hindering mental capacities and/or in exchange for their sense of reason.

D: In truth, Velvet never went insane. She was simply viewed as insane due to her actions in life, both by those who stood against her in her time, and those that followed after. While limiting in some manners, when out of combat, Velvet is perfectly rational.

Riding: The capacity to ride vehicles and animals.

C: Due to Madness Enhancement, this Skill’s Rank has drastically decreased, originally being at B Rank.

Personal Skills

Eternal Arms Mastery: Mastership of combat arts has reached the point of being said to be unrivaled in one's era. By complete the merging of mind, body, and technique, it is possible to make use of full fighting skills even when under the influence of any sort of mental hindrance.

A: Velvet has arduosly trained for most of her life to become a knight worthy of standing beside her brothers as a Knight of The Round Table. She received training from her mother, from ‘The Greatest Knight of Camelot’ and later on, her brother Agravain. Even as a Berserker, those skills will never leave her, making her a formidable combatant no matter the situation.

Blue Ether Cartridges: Ammunation for Velvet’s Gun Lance. Magazines of condensed magical energy that can be loaded into the lance for use of destructive force. While primarily used to wound the enemy when exploded after Velvet charges with the lance, they also function to help stop the momentum of her thrusts.

A+: As a Ghost Liner, Velvet has the capability of consuming the Magical Energy inside the cartridges, increasing her wield of mana, either for the purpose of strengthening herself, or extending her time limit of existance without a Master supplying her.

Slayer of The Black Beast: A title granted to one who slayed the Legendary Black Beast of Argh, whether on their lonesome or with the company of others. Grants a temporary stat boost when facing ‘animal characteristic’ enemies or ‘Demonic Beasts’.

EX: Even before she joined Camelot as a squire, Velvet had already made a name for herself by slaying The Legendary Black Beast of Argh, a monster that the ‘Magus of Flowers’ assumed that could only be felled by something of the caliber of ‘The Holy Spear of Antioch’.

Noble Phantasms

??? (Anti-Unit) B++

??? (Anti-Unit) A+

Chapter Text

“Negotions seem to have turned sour.” Maiya’s voice reached his ears through the phone, her tone emontionless to any other than him. He could hear the slight concern on her voice. “El-Melloi is yelling and pointing at the newly-arrived blonde. She showed up in the same way that a Servant leaves Spirit Form. Caster and the girl are yelling too, and are shooing both El-Melloi and Saber out of the room. And the three followed them outside.”

“Hmm.” Kiritsugu hummed as he heard it. After failed negotiations, it was likely both sides would be preparing for either an offensive or a defensive action. It would depend entirely on the speed that they prepared themselves.

But El-Melloi, despite being a Lord with experience against assassinations, was away from his base, the Master of Caster’s room being a whole sixteen floors below his, and the noble would be underprepared for a fight. “El-Melloi is going to go back to his suite and the Master of Caster is likely to try to invade it. Any defenses made could be dispelled by Caster, and that other girl might be able to distract Saber long enough for that vigilante to kill the mage.”

The Magus Killer nodded to himself even as he spoke. It was a clear and obvious tactic to take in this situation, and knowing the almost innate arrogance of mages, one that would almost undoubtly be taken. Kiritsugu frowned as a thought came to him.

But the Master of Caster is not a common mage. 

A common mage with his strength would attack, but considering his actions, he wouldn’t. His type, romantic and idealistic fools who still believed in justice, would never risk putting an innocent civilian in danger. Most likely he’s going to wait until the building is evacuated. 

As Kiritsugu laid eyes on the people arriving to the park away from the hotel, luggages and bags carried out by staff, he imagined it wouldn’t take long.

Turning back to the phone in his ear, Kiritsugu ordered, “Maiya. Relocate and watch for movement in the top floor. It’s likely that any attack will only happen after the evacuation is finished.”

He put the phone back in his pocket and sat on a nearby bench, keeping his eyes on the oncoming civilians, waiting for the arrivals to end. Just people trying to live their lives, and getting caught up in this bloody conflict between mages. It was pitiful, how their lives would be so horribly disrupted for the wishes of the greedy.

But it’s for the best. He reminded himself. After this bloodbath, after I bear All the Evils of the World, I can save them all.

He would save them. He had to.

And after fifteen minutes had passed and the plaza away from the hotel had filled itself to the brim with confused citizens, Kiritsugu went up towards one of the clerks that had been calling for El-Melloi’s name. A simple suggestion magecraft, light enough to simply confuse the clerk’s sense and memories of the Lord, and Kiritsugu managed to convince the man that Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald had safely evacuated. But just as he left the area, he heard the clerk yell out another name.

“-rc.” Unfortunately for the Magus Killer, he only caught the tail end of the name. Clicking his tongue, he began making his way back to the clerk, realising that the name likely belonged to the Master of Caster. If he could get the man’s name, so many problems would be solved. But before he could come to the realization he wouldn’t be able to impersonate both of the Masters, he saw a blonde man talking to the clerk.

Kiritsugu’s breath caught in his throat before he forced his reaction down and made his way deeper into the crowd, popping his collar to hide his face. His feet froze, however, as he noticed a problem. Why is the Master of Caster here? Kiritsugu blinked in a stupor as his mind caught up to the fact that one of his targets was outside the building. 

But why? Why isn’t he attacking El-Melloi?

It didn’t take long for the answer to come to him, but Kiritsugu still slapped a hand against his face when it did. Of course he wouldn’t go fight El-Melloi; Rider had hit him with a goddamn Noble Phantasm. It was surprising enough that he could move at all.

Stomping away with a frustrated look on his face, Kiritsugu Emiya missed the way the blonde man grinned at his shrinking back. The Magus Killer thought of bringing out his phone and asking Maiya whether the Lord had moved from his position, but realised it wouldn’t matter. If El-Melloi had stayed, bringing down the hotel would get rid of one Master and Servant pair, and if he did evacuate, the destruction of the hotel would mean the destruction of any Mystic Codes the two Masters brought with them to the war.

Reaching a secluded area in the parking lot, Kiritsugu took a deep breath to calm himself and prepare for the aftermath. He pulled out a second phone, and pushed the hidden detonator. A single series of multiple digital noises began before it devolved into a single ear-piercing screech.

But instead of a far away rush of heat and a series of explosions... He heard a loud and clear Shout.

“FUS ROH DAH!”

Rapid breaths left Jaune’s mouth as he ran between the cars parked in the Hyatt Hotel, his ribs still complaining every moment his lungs expanded and detracted. But he pushed through the pain, desperation and something else he couldn’t quite place giving him the strength to keep moving. His feet skidded on floor as he forced himself to stop, his eyes landing on a small box nestled in between two cars.

Rapidly stabbing it with his sword, the dragonbone blade instanteneously froze the internals of the box.

Ripping it out without any caution, he desperately put the frozen explosive on a sash he made with his Mystic Code before running off again. Not without taking out his phone and yelling at it, “HOW MANY YOU GUYS GOT!!??”

“THREE!” Yang answered loudly, her voice frustrated from all the times she had to freeze the packets. Thank the Nine Serana’s so good at Frost spells.

“WE’VE GOT SIX!” Diarmuid responded rapidly, his feet stampeding as he followed the thin trail of mercury that was his Master’s Supreme Mystic Code, six rectangle boxes hanging under his arm.

“I managed to take five before leaving them on the floor above the garage.” Morgan talked calmly, Jaune having no idea how she could keep her calm on such a shit situation. “Now, I will look for the one who planted these. If I can get the detonator I can end this whole mess.”

“Good luck then.” Jaune tensely said as he counted the total they already had. His feet kept running, his eyes and Aura searching for any other packet or trace of mana, even as his mind questioned how the hell everything went both so horribly wrong and so wonderfully well.

When Yang had told them of the bombs, Kayneth immediately started shouting about suspects and proof but Saber stepped in and told them of someone watching from the window. From there, Morgan instructed them to pretend the talks had gone wrong and go look for the bombs around the building, the Caster telling them to look for any traces of mana on the building.

Diarmuid’s and Yang’s ability to enter Spirit Form helped them a lot, getting the few bombs there were inside of locked rooms, even if they couldn’t hold the explosives when using it. And that Mystic Code from Kayneth was making it so easy to find them.

But we can’t have too much time left. His mind unhelpfully pointed out. We’ve been looking for ten minutes already. If whoever did this decided to evacuate the building first then they’re going to set the explosive off immediately after the civilians are safe. The realisation brought a stop to his feet, his breath quickening as panic set in, before he ruthlessly pushed it down.

If we don’t have time, then I need to get rid of the ones we already have. His eyes traveled to a nearby map of the building’s layout for the aid of lost guests. He could see he was in the 16^th floor, and if he was correct, Yang should be on the 17^th and Diarmuid on the 15^th. His lips turned into a small, strained smile. Good thing my whole job is to make plans on the fly.

Turning back to the phone in his hand, he relayed his hasty plan to a panicking Saber and a histeric Dragonborn. The former called him mad, insane and every other insult he could think of. Yang just praised him for ‘acting like a real Nord.’

Jaune’s feet stampeded loudly, now joined by two other pairs running along with his. Diarmuid went ahead of both him and Yang, who stayed at the back of the line.

The Servant of the Sword had both of his weapons out in the open, completely ignoring the way his Master kept yelling in his head.

He knew damn well this was a stupid idea.

But he also knew Jaune Arc would not risk the lives of the innocent outside.

And as he saw his target at the end of the corridor, the Knight of Fianna lowered his body and used Mana Burst to reach it faster. Slashing it with both his swords, he broke through the reinforced glass of the window.

Jaune ran past the man and opened the cloth in his hand, all seventeen packets of C4 thrown in the nighttime air and left hanging in the cold breeze for a scant few seconds, before gravity exerted it’s rule and began pulling them down. In the same move he used to throw the Compost, Jaune turned with the momentum and kicked Saber out of the way. Clasping his ears with his hands, Saber doing the same opposite him, Jaune yelled, “NOW!”

Just before the packects began to fall, Yang jumped out of the window in excitement, grinning ear to ear. Her lungs expanded as she took a deep breath of fresh air, her hair lighting in radiant gold and her eyes shining a beautiful crimson, her mouth opening once more, Shouting with all her Dragonic Authority as the Last Child of Akatosh.

“FUS ROH DAH!”

At the range of two kilometers, multiple glassfronts and car windows cracked minutely.

At the range of a kilometer and eight hundred, several dogs threw to the ground, holding their heads low and pressing their paws to their ears, whining in pain.

At the range of a kilometer and a half, rodents and birds ceased their movements and fell to the ground, their hearts no longer beating.

At the range of a kilometer, every glass, reinforced or not, shattered to a million pieces.

At at the epicenter of the booming thunderous Shout...

Were the torn remains of the explosives, the Unrelenting Force in the Old Voice of Dovah blasting everything upwards. The small explosives were eviscerated by the force, their broken remains flying so far up you would need a binocular just to see were they went.

But even with all their work, they had not gotten everything, as the three explosions that sounded below them proved.

Maiya Hisau dropped her gun, the metal clanging slightly on the floor and, even though it was barely noticible, the sound added to the pain from her rigging ears, a bit of blood running down the sides of her head. She tried to use her limited knowledge of healing magecraft on herself, but her brain was far too jumbled to listen to her. All she could do was wait it out.

When she felt her hearing recover, some two minutes later, she immediately picked the long distance firearm back up, aiming it at the broken window that once showed her targets. Her scope scanned the building, her teeth gritting as she cursed inwardly. All the while, she tried to reach Kiritsugu. She knew she had finally reached him when his worried voice came directly into her ear. “What the hell happened!? Are you okay!?”

“I’m fine. Just a little ear bleed.” She responded, pushing down a small warmth that rose in her chest. It wouldn’t lead to anything. “But... it looks like the plan failed. The girl, she... yelled something and... the payload got sent to the stratosphere.”

For as much as she tried to keep her voice calm through the report, her eyes glared at the three responsible for this failure. The girl layed down on the floor and the blonde man sitting beside her. Her sight locked into his strained face, her own turning in displeasure. Her finger twitched on the trigger. “I have a clear line of sight of the Master of Caster. If I make the shot-”

“I don’t think you will.”

Cold steel grazed her throat, her teeth loudly clicking together as she slammed her mouth shut. Her eyes traveled up the blade, past pale skin and flowing silver hair, and meeting cold blue orbs that glared at her with palpable rage. She glared back even as her inner mind panicked at the presence of an enemy Servant with a very easy way to kill her.

How in the hell Caster approached her so silently while wearing high-heels, Maiya didn’t think she would ever know.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful the view of my window was?” Caster rhetorically asked. “I even had a sauna and a private jacuzzi, and I know a certain dragongirl that will be very mad with you for destroying. She was looking forward to it.”

Any other would have been annoyed by the words but Maiya could see that the Servant just wanted to instill some panic in the woman. And, if the bead of sweat on Maiya’s forehead was any indication, it was very effective. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Maiya tried using one of the codes she had shared with Kiritsugu, one that was meant to call for help, but she found the steel digging deeper in her flesh, a thin trickle of blood flowing down the tip and to the floor.

“Now that we are more acquainted with our situations, I believe that retribution is in order. First.” A small smirk spread across Caster’s lips, a little of the witch that was Morgan Le Fae showing in her face. Her eyes shined with evil. “I will accept the name of the little rat you were talking to.”

Maiya grit her teeth, her eyes sharpening as she pressed her neck further against the blade. The Queen of the Fae simply rolled her eyes at the display. “Please, enough with the show. One spell and I can take away that pesky will of yours.”

Her eyes glared coldly, her face almost bored as she looked down on the black haired woman. “So, how do you plan to get out of this without doing exactly what I. Tell you. To do?”

Maiya... didn’t know. For all of their plans, neither her nor Kiritsugu ever imagined she would get put into this situation. While she would take her life, a Caster could easily keep her alive while she put her mind in a dazed state with her spells. And considering this was Morgan Le Fae, Maiya couldn’t be sure what exactly would happen either. It was the obvious decision to kill her, but Caster was sadistic and petty, more than willing to use her against Kiritsugu and his dream.

But worst of all was this little show. This was a show for Caster; a small moment of amusent before she extracts the information she wanted and executes her hostage.

Luckily for her, and unfortunately for Caster, God seemed to have taken Maiya’s side of the argument, with a black arrow lodging itself on the Servant’s shoulder.

She stumbled from the impact, a pained scream ripping out of her throat as she gripped her left shoulder and hissed as her fingers clasped the arrowhead stuck in her body. She clearly thought of ripping it out and healing the wound, but a whistling sound had her leaning her head back instead.

And missing the thin sword held by a black knight.

And the other five weapons that slammed into the ground were she once was. Taking back their weapons, the six fully-armored knights snapped their heads to Caster, their movements jerky and their bodies twitching as they gazed at the pale woman. “Assassin...”

“Mor... gan” The six knights spoke at once, the voice distorted but still clearly from the same person.

Assassin’s familiars, then. Maiya’s mind jotted the details down and filed them to the back of her mind, her hand grabbing her gun and her legs taking her behind a distant pillar. All the while, the sound of metal footsteps came from all around her.

They were surrounded.

Slumping against the hallway’s wall with an explosive sigh of exhaustion, Jaune hit the floor beside a laughing Dragonborn laying on her back and a trembling Diarmuid with a twitchy smile on his face. The three of them felt exhaustion finally creeping in, two of them having spent the past two or so hours in extreme activity and the last still adjusting to having a physical body.

For a moment, Diarmuid stilled, violet eyes locking into his form as Yang prepared for the worst. For as much as Kayneth may have come to them with the idea for an alliance, he would probably feel much safer with Jaune dead instead. And she would not allow that.

Fortunately, it seemed she wouldn’t need to split that pretty face open, for Diarmuid sighed again, this time with a more relaxed smile.

“I have reported our actions to my Master. It seems that the few bombs that still were inside don’t propose any danger of taking the building down and the evacuation had ended minutes before.” The knight dutifully told them, drawing a smirking ‘nice’ from Yang and a strong cheer from Jaune.

She looked at his relieved smile with a small frown of worry in her lips, one that was surprisingly shared by her fellow Heroic Spirit. It seemed that Diarmuid, for all his fanboying, had noticed how panicked Jaune had been about this. So much more than the rest of them.

‘I didn’t fail.’ She could imagine him thinking.

“While he is scolding me for putting the secrecy of the war at risk, he has assured us that we need not worry too much about it.” Diarmuid pulled himself up before offering his hands to Yang and Jaune, the both of which respectfully denied. “The Church handles that aspect of the war. Though he is moving to handle the immediate hypnosis of anyone who tries to investigate.”

Janue frowned when Diarmuid mentioned hypnosis, his mind remembering the way his brain nearly shut down when Morgan tricked him into signing that contract. It wasn’t long before it was once more replaced with a smile. They had done something good tonight, and with the Holy Grail he could make sure he wouldn’t sign the contract again.

Maybe do something about Morgan’s situation to deal with the root of the problem instead of just avoiding it’s symptons.

Coming back to the present, Jaune noticed the way Diarmuid was staring at the two of them, an excited smile on his face. Before the foreigner could ask, Diarmuid simply posed his question. “So, do you mind telling me what that was? I must admit I can’t recognize someone that can shoot hurricanes out of her mouth.”

“Heh. Just something I learned I could do. Though the first time was more instinct that any thing.” The girl kept up her smirk all the while the Servant of the Sword stared at her, like an excitable child wanting to know what trick the magician had just done was. “Sorry Saber, but I’m not explaining my Noble Phantasm to an enemy. And speaking of enemies, how’s Mo- how’s Caster?”

Jaune’s lips pursed for a second as he tried figuring out how he was supposed to find that out before slapping himself in the forehead as he remembered he could talk telepathically to his Servant. A simple thing Morgan had taught him out to do when the war first started, even if he didn’t like doing it much. It felt weird to have someone speaking straight into his mind. I wonder if I can do it with Yang. She is my Servant now, too.

Shaking his head, Jaune closed his eyes to focus, spending only a singular moment before managing to reach out for the woman he was thinking of.

“Morgan, how ar-

“I NEED HELP!”

The mental scream was enough for him to snap his eyes open, before they tightly closed again and he gripped his head in pain. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, his squinted eyes landing on Yang who returned his gaze in the same way, a snarl showing on her face. It seemed she had gotten the message too.

Not even bothering to explain the situation to the confused Saber beside them, Yang turned around and jumped out the window with a great burst of magical energy, rocketing her to the top of the building.

Diarmuid didn’t even try running after her, his gaze locked to the blues eyes of the other knight, his own gold narrowing in understanding. “How can I aid you?” He asked, his time as a knight shining through in his actions. To aid one who would inevitable become an enemy was an act only those who valued honor above all else would do. More than helpful in this case.

Jaune looked at the knight with a look of surprise before smiling in relief. For a moment he wondered whether Diarmuid had been alive during Arthur’s time. He would have made a good Knight of the Round.

“Diarmuid.” He spoke the man’s name as respectfully as he could. His right hand layed over his chest, both as a gesture to a fellow knight and to focus his Aura on the damage caused to him earlier. “Wanna help me do something crazy?”

He got a laugh in response. “You ask me that now?” The Knight of Fianna shook his head in amusement before giving an excited smile. “Tell me, what’s the plan?”

Morgan grit her teeth as she slid back on the floor, her high heels piercing the floor and stopping her motion. The extra firmness aided her when she had to block another overhead swing on her staff, her muscles protesting from the strain. Twisting the blade and letting it hit the floor, she slammed an open palm on the black armor before, a massive gust of wind tearing it apart and three of the ones behind it.

Even then, she had more to deal with.

Ducking under a swing and kneeling with the speartip of her weapon pointed directly at the helmet of the one directly in front of her, a mental command had the weapon shapeshift, turning from a large axe into a a single line of black metal that stabbed through the head of her enemy.

Turning it back into it’s usual form, she ripped it out of the dead famliar and swung once more, decapitating a head and parrying a sword. She stumbled back when she was hit with a shield bash, her eyes instinctually closing. They snapped open as she screamed in pain, her body being launched away as one of their swords dug deep into her.

She rolled on the floor, little scraps appearing on her body and blood gushing from the wound on her side. She hissed and winced as she covered it with a hand, a quick spell closing the wound even if it hurt. It was only thanks to Jaune’s unusually high amount of magical energy that she could still stand on her feet, as unsteady as her legs may have been.

Her eyes landed on her weapon, having been left behind when she dropped it in her pain. Grinning for a moment, she slapped her hands together in a praying signal before they closed in like fists in each other’s palm, the fingers now tightly gripping their opposites. At the same time, her weapon responded, turning from a long polearm easily six feet long into a small ball of perfect rotund shape. Then, in sudden motion, her finger splayed open before her hands slammed into each other, her pinky fingers locked against her thumbs and the rest of them poking out from behind her arms. And in response-

The perfect ball of dark material exploded into a thousand spikes, stabbing into the armors of several of the familiars and shredding right through them like the metal was nothing but paper. It wouldn’t have been enough to kill them, most of the stabs missing vital parts of the body of a familiar. But just as some began to move and try to remove the spikes, blue lines shot out into the knights from her weapon, igniting their bodies and melting them from inside, their screams echoing in the building.

She panted in place with a wicked grin in her face, the aftermath of her spell filling her with satisfaction and pride.

Even then, as she watched as more and more of the knights showed themselves, numbering twenty at the least, she felt that she wasn’t going to last much longer.

And then she heard a familiar voice at the back of her head. One that brought a smile to her lips and much needed vigor to her arms.

“Yang’s on her way; 10 seconds at best.”

All the while, Kirei Kotomine grit his teeth, watching as now eight of Assassin’s Enforcers wildly swung at Caster, their attacks as effective as they had been for the past three minutes. Completely useless.

For as much as they seemed like a cohesive unit in the times he had seen them before, now they were more like angry animals, getting in each other’s way, missing their swings and leaving themselves open for the few attacks that Caster managed to get out, the skill expected from knights summoned by Agravain Who Knows No Wounds being completely absent. But, from all the screaming and roaring coming from them, and the black smoke that kept wafting off from their armor, he imagined their Madness Enhancement finally kicked in.

Right at the time I could have had the chance to meet Kiritsugu Emiya. Just my luck.

His legs moved him through the area, his dark clothes making it easier to keep himself hidden from Caster. She could have known he was here already, but he was willing to guess she wouldn’t know it was him. And that was a stroke of luck; if the rest of the Masters of the War found out about the Church’s meddling, they would converge and get rid of him, his father and Master Tokiomi altogether.

Even if he felt strangely giddy at the thought.

It would have been the wiser choice to simply stay in place and wait for Caster to die, but by that point that woman would have already escaped, the automatons that were converging in the building likely to completely ignore her.  He could not allow that.

He knew that woman could get him to Emiya Kiritsugu. And if she didn’t want to, his Black Keys were already out.

The battle raged on, Caster putting up a valiant defense against the assault, her shoulder and stomach now healed and her weapon moving like a blur as she blocked and parried every strike she didn’t outright dodge. A good defense even if it was ultimately futile. A surrounded Caster, known to be a class even weaker than Assassins in terms of physical power, could never withstand this much pressure. And he doubted that Morgan Le Fae, a manipulator and schemer famous for orchastrating the fall of Camelot, had a Noble Phantasm that could damage so many targets at once.

His sight landed on the back of the woman from before, her eyes watching the same battle as he was, her mouth moving as she reported to the piece of his focus. He felt his lips turn into a wide smile, his heart rejoicing for the first time in his life as he came closer and closer to the chance to find someone who understood him.

Blinking suddenly, the woman turned with a surprised face, her gun lifting to aim at him but his Black Keys moved fast enough to cut her wrist and shoulder, making the woman cry out in pain and drop the weapon. She was quick to recover, already moving out of the way and trying to hide once more, only to freeze in her tracks as she bounced off black armor.

Kirei was quick to take advantage of the situation, his grin turning feral as he threw out his cover and dashed between the steel beams, three Black Keys on his left hand primed to pierce her leg and make her his hostage.

But just as he stepped out in the open and the woman turned back to him with a new handgun...

“WULD NAH KEST!”

They both froze in place, covering their ears and wincing in pain as they watched a figure fly between them. Comedically, they blinked at each other while shaking off the ringing in their ears, before turning to the figure with surprise laden on their faces. But as their eyes landed on the one responsible, they both froze as the vibrant golden hair before them shined in ethereal glow, a silver and black longsword in her hand.

And angry violet eyes stared back.

She ignored the two of them, charging into the fray of black knights with a feral roar, the sword glinting as she jumped up and slammed the sword down hard enough to split an Enforcer in two and crack the ground beneath it. She was quick to lift the sword back up, blocking two attacks one handed and using her free hand to punch one of the Enforcers hard enough to cave in his armor.

The black armor of the Enforcers soon covered her from view, the maddened knights doing their best to kill the enemy standing between them and their target. Kirei took his eyes back to the spot where he last saw the woman with the gun, having expected, and being right to do so, that she would have already left the area in favor of hiding.

But he knew she would not leave. And neither would he.

Because the chance to see the abilities of an unknown Servant was too good to let slip.

Kiritsugu cursed as Maiya’s phone suddenly cut off, her voice choking out a raspy gasp. He spun around, forgetting Maiya’s position for a single second of panic before he managed to compose himself by punching his cheek. Turning to the building she was in and noting he would take around a hundred and sixty seconds to reach it and another three hundred to reach where Mayia should be, he pumped his legs with Od, the Reinforcement magecraft he was going to cast letting him reach the kind of speeds Olympic champions would be jealous of.

But just as he lowered his body to burst towards the building, he noticed the people around him gasping and pointing at the smoking building(that should have gone down but he wasn’t going to dwell on that right now), their looks taking his attention away and back to hotel. He expected a few things, maybe the Master of Caster making some grand display for saving the symbol of Fuyuki City’s budding modern estates. His eyes widened when, instead, he saw a figure falling down.

A man in a white hood diving head-first down the side of the tallest building in the city.

The sight was too shocking for him and for the others around him, many openly gawking as the vigilante of Fuyuki casually jumped off the window he had previously chucked the bombs out of. He was little more than a white streak flying down, picking up terminal velocity and sure to end in little more than a smear of red paste on the ground. The bastard may have been able to survive a Noble Phantasm but a free fall of at least seventy meters was bound to kill him.

All my worries, and the bastard just kills himself. Kiritsugu didn’t know whether to be relieved or just plain annoyed.

Just as he reached the last thirty meters, the Magus Killer noticed a movement from his fellow Master. He had just flipped his body back, the cloak expanding behind him like a dove’s wings. While cool imagery for everyone else who couldn’t see as far as he could with his Reinforcement, to Kiritsugu it revealed the person hiding under cloak and body of Shielder.

Saber, his legs pointing down like a spear.

Just as his eyes widened, the two impacted the ground, a massive cloud of smoke rising from the point of impact and blanketing the area in a thick fog of dust. And from that fog came the vigilante of Fuyuki, running like a mad man, faster than warhorse, faster than humanly possible, and blitzing past the awed civilians and stopping for nothing.

He ran beside Kiritsugu, the Magus Killer’s holow eyes following the blazing figure, his blue eyes staring directly ahead. They momentarily slid towards him, narrowing for a second, before the man finally passed him.

Kiritsugu gawked in shock at the bastard’s lack of sublety; any mage would and should fear the Clock Tower sending a Seal Designation Enforcer after them if they made a stunt like this.

Was that man truly so ignorant?

Or was he truly so powerful?

Pushing the questions aside, Kiritsugu Emiya cursed as, when he began making his way to Maiya, he realized that he and Shielder were running in the same direction.

Yang Xiao-Long wasn’t what one would call a swordmaster.

Either in Remnant or Nirn, few were the times she held a blade in her hands, much preferring to simply plough through her enemies with her fists.

And even now, when calling on the skill of Ruby Rose Ironwood, her fighting still shouldn’t be called masterful swordplay.

She back stepped swiftly to avoid a sword swinging for her throat before dashing back in and lightly punching the suit of armor in front of her. The force of her fist was still enough to make the thing stumble back several feet before bumping into other like it. All of them, three in total, were impaled in silver blade of Balmung, the hands of the blonde barbarian holding tightly to the legendary sword’s hilt. Instead of retracting the blade, she simply ripped it out of their armors by throwing them aside like common trash.

Swinging the blade to the other side and and casually cutting two more Enforcers in half, her sharp eyes and wide grin gave all onlookers the illusion of a demon on the battlefield, terrifying those with a weaker spirit. She didn’t even notice, too busy dashing into the fray and cutting down armors left and right, her feet trampling on the discarded pieces and turning them into dust.

She spun the sword into a reverse grip in one hand, stabbing it in the ground to block a strike from below before retaliating with an axe kick that pulverized one that had still been approaching. Going along with the momentum, she twisted her body and brought down her free hand in a fist that caved in the helmet of the one that tried attacking earlier.

Spinning around, she backhanded an Enforcer and removed the sword in one motion, swinging the weapon up and cutting the one before her in half.

Throwing the sword up, she punched forward before kicking behind, every action destroying more and more. Bending her knee and bringing her body low, she surged up in a headbutt that broke the chinguard of one of them. She kept going on up, high enough to catch Balmung in her right hand. She brough the sword down, holding the tip forward, her momentum dying out as she floated in the air mere seconds before gravity began to reassert itself.

The Enforcers brought out any protection they had, be it shields or pieces of their impromptu arena, to protect themselves from what they expected to be another devastating swing.

What they didn’t expect was for the woman to scream.

“WULD!”

The longsword and the woman dashed forwards like a bloody lance, violently piercing the Enforcers and exploding them into smithereens. The silver and black blade flew through and past their dissolving corpses, stabbing into a concrete pillar. It’s wielder let go of the weapon, acting for al the world like it was imbedded in the cracked pillar and she couldn’t pull it out despite her overwhelming Strength.

But with their Madness Enhancement, taking away their ability to reason, the Enforcers only saw a chance to overwhelm and kill their obstacle. However, that same Madness Enhancement blinded them to a simple fact.

The girl was not alone.

The floor they stepped on was a pure inky-black, rippling with the contact of their feet, and when enough of them were in it’s reach, hundreds of black spikes suddenly rose out of the floor and pierced through most of them, igniting in blue flames and burning the bodies in a blazing heat. The Dovahkiin turned back to the Queen of The Fae with a smirking face, the woman returning with a smaller one. “Can’t let you have all the fun now, can I?”

The Nord laughed loudly, her hair moving wildly as her body shook. After shaking her head, she bent her knees and flashed forwad with a wide grin on her face, planting her fist in the chest of one dissolving Enforcer before lifting the heavy armor with both hands and throwing the blazing corpse at the fortunate ones who had evaded death for a few more seconds.

Not that they lasted much longer. With both Yang and Morgan, one with the skills of countless spirits at her beck and call and another with mystic arts unseen for centuries, the fifty-six remaining Knight Enforcers were quickly dispatched, the only evidence of their existence being the several holes and cracks left among the arena, with a few still dissolving pieces of armor.

The Dovahkiin shook her head, running her hands through her wild hair and whooping loudly. “Hells yes! I needed this! What about you, Mo-Mo? Ya feeling excited!?”

“I’m not a battle maniac like you, dragongirl. Chilling with a cool drink and a warm meal would be much better at making me ‘excited’, whatever you mean with that.” The Queen of Orkney sighed as she stretched her arms above her, before flinching, letting out a groan from the light pain that came from her stomach. She may have been a master at magic but as distracted as she was, she hadn’t been able to properly heal herself from the multitude of injuries she had received. “Damn that Assassin. I’m covered in scratches and wounds.”

“Then let me help with that.”

“Hey, thought you’ld never show up!” Came the voice from the blonde haired girl

“Took you long enough.” Caster’s greeting was colder, but the smile on her face gave her some warmth he hadn’t expected from the stories about her.

“Hey, it’s hard to jump off the side of a hotel, you know? Thankfully, Diarmuid helped me get here.” The Master of Caster easily responded, despite the way his chest erratically moved, his breathing far more shallow than normal. “It’s not exactly my first rodeo falling at terminal velocity, but last time I wasn’t running so spent.”

What the hell does he mean by that? Kiritsugu thought to himself as he and Maiya listened in on the conversation between the three. The two assassins were doing their utter best not to get found out by the group, Emiya even having taken a longer route to reach the building so to not raise Shielder’s attention. And even being as late as he was, he managed to catch the tail-end of the spectacle that was Caster’s and the dragongirl’s fight against those armoured suits. And it didn’t paint a pretty picture.

Just as Maiya had reported, an eighth Servant had been summoned. And a very powerful one at that. Making Caster’s group possibly the strongest in the entire Grail War.

Emiya’s teeth involuntarily grinded against each other as he watched the scene of the three casually speaking, with the Servants reporting Assassin’s ability(and that was going to be an issue to deal with; hopefully Lancer’s Noble Phantasm could kill them all in one go) and the younger girl just going on and on about how cool it was to fight a bunch of ‘dwarven golems’ again. The excited rambling was cut off when Caster grunted again, pressing a hand against her stomach.

As soon as he noticed the wound, Shielder immediately stepped towards her, his hand held out towards her. His face was serious but his tone was gentle when he spoke, “Here, let me handle that.”

Caster shook her head and raised her hand, stalling him from approaching. Her eyes were firm as she stared at her Master, her mouth set in a thin line. “It’s better if you don’t. Or have you forgotten just how much energy you used this night? With your fight with Archer and your wounds from Rider’s Noble Phantasm-” She stressed the last words with two knocks on his forehead with her knuckles- “Your reserves must be running on nothing but willpower and whatever asinine magic you pull out of the voids of space.”

“Even if I’m running low, I won’t just stay back and do nothing. I have a responsibility to help you, Morgan.” Shielder still stood there with his hands outstretched, simply smiling through it all and hovering his hands over the wound, careful not to touch without being let to. His head raised towards Caster, tilting to the side minutely as he continued: “After all, we’re partners in this. You’re too important for me to just not do anything.”

The woman glared at him, her shoulders hunching even as a small hint of red raced up her cheeks. Releasing a sigh, she gave a nod for him to go ahead, which was rather useful for Kiritsugu. If the Master of Caster was willing to show even more abilities, then the Magus Killer was very interested in seeing the extent of them all.

Once the gloved hands made contact with the wounded flesh, Caster flinching a little from the contact, a bright light illuminated the entire area. The hiding assassins averted their eyes, else they would go blind, but looking back when it subsided. Their jaws fell open as they saw that not only was Caster back at good health, she seemed to brim with energy and life, the woman rolling her shoulders and sighing in relief.

The two knew that healing spells were strong, especially on Servants who were easier to heal than living humans due to their bodies being comprised mainly of Ether. But to heal one at the same level as a Command Spell and still give an extra boost?

That was way too much!

Caster laughed at the sensation, testing a bit of her spells and realizing just how much power was tingling beneath her surface. That and... other things. Grinning with pride, she planted her hands on her hips and turned to stare directly at Emiya and Maiya. “Now that I have returned to my full strength, what say you two about dealing with our little terroristic vouyers?”

Even before she finished, Kiritsugu was already throwing out a smoke grenade, creating what he hoped would be enough cover for the two to escape. He couldn’t afford to lose Maiya. Not this early. He wouldn’t, they were just a few meters from the hole that led to the lower floors and even if they were followed, with their combined expertise, Kiritsugu was sure that they could esca-

“LOOK VAH KOR!”

And once more, the new girl used a strange, magical Shout, this one dismissing the smoke that had been created and turning it from it’s green color into as see through as air. More smoke was being dispensed, but their cover was already blown.

Kiritsugu pushed Maiya with his left arm, throwing her closer to their escape route and simultaneously spinning himself around to face the threat coming his way, his hand pulling out the Thompson Contender from his coat. And just in time, as the Master of Caster suddenly appeared before him, drawing the sword in his sheath with the intent to kill.

The Mystic Code nearly lined with the vigilantes head.

The sword manifested the elements in its blade; fire, ice and lighting coursing along its length.

Wide, hollow black met narrowed, angry red, promising punishm-

T̵̺̂͊̅̋̇ḩ̶̭̯͎̣̕ë̴̼͓͓̽͑͋̇ ̴̗͔̻͋̈́̑̕͜w̵̱̤͌͆͐̕o̷͕͊̈̀͜ͅȑ̶̨̫̜͓̻l̴̦͖͙̦̈d̴͓̝͑͘͜ͅ ̸̨͛͝w̶̓̀̂͆͜a̶̺̻͔̲͊͘s̷̼͈̪͊̚̚ ̸͈̓̏̈̑b̶͇̠̤̱̙̆u̸̧͍̐ṛ̶̨͋n̸̜͚͕͛̏̔̔̀i̶̻̺̲̫̰͝n̷͔͓̪̉͆g̴̤̓͌̾.̴̢͖͉̮̲̒

̴̻̞́̃͝͝C̶̢̀̎ḧ̷̩͎̻́̈́̕͝a̶̡̛̫͝o̵̫̯̓͝s̸̝̩̪̎͐͝ ̴̨̡̮̈́͘b̴̪̓u̴̖͎͔͇͐̃r̸̞̍͘ǹ̷̟̱̿̎͌ĕ̵̳̞̰͇̼͊d̸̨̡̛̰̗͌ ̶̰̫̼͎̱͂t̴̯̣͛̑h̶̛̪̗͐̊͐̅è̶̞͜ ̵̠̭̟̙̊̊͛̆ȋ̴̫̲̦͚̾́̆̌ǹ̵̪̖̲ň̴̻̝͍o̵̝̣̹̝̅́c̷̠͆͝e̸̛̱̟̣͗̋̅͘n̵̰̗̲̏̕t̴̞̀͂.̵͇̻̑̌̊̍͋ͅ

̴̡̺͓̽̇͘Ċ̵̹̣͙̞̂́̃h̸̦̣͖͕̿͛̈́ã̵̤̗̔̿́̾͜ó̶̡̘̖̺̣̀͊̐͠s̷̙̜̦̤͔̉͝ ̸̡̜̱͚͑̽̔̀̏p̶͖̠̺̑̀̀͛͘ï̷̢͇̥̼̭̈̎̑͝ě̸̲ȓ̶̟̹̼͓̽͑͠c̷͇͊̎̈́̿e̴̫͙͍̔́̎͠͠d̵̬͗̒͆́̕͜ͅ ̷̹̮͓̫͒̈́̚͘͠t̵̙͕̖͕̏̔͝h̶̜͍͝ẻ̵̹̽̔͝ ̵̢̡̱͇̐͠p̵̤͓͍͇̀͌͠ͅu̴̮̱͋͛̚ŕ̷͍̈́ͅe̸̡͇̰̗̫̎̈̅̐̕.̵̱͔̪̭̔͌̄̽

C̶̨̛̹̱̅h̷̰̝͓̟̻̍a̴̺̻̣̎̍̈́͛͂͜ö̶̝̖͒̏̀ͅs̶̝̈́̄ ̴͇͎͍̜̅̀̍̐ć̵̬̉ḣ̶̰̒a̶͓͆͛̈́̽͠ȓ̶̢̜ŕ̴̘͘͘͝e̶̪̟̫͂d̵̮̫̀͊̒̅ ̷̙̩͇̓̈́̐̓͆t̸̫̭̿̔̾̋h̴̞͇̙̋ȩ̵̦̠͓̊͝ ̸̣͈́̑͆̐̕ǘ̷̱͇̦n̸̡̛̻̖͔̝̆͛̃d̴̫̈́̀ẻ̸͈̮̲͎͉̀r̴͎̖̓͋s̸͕͋̚è̸̛̙̺̘͈͋̚r̶̮̿v̸̧̼̱̟̝́̑̑i̵̥͎̅̽̿n̶͙̟͐̏͘g̶̢̫̮͇̀̊͝.̷̧͉̻̪̺̈

̵̩͚̥̆͑͊͆͠H̷̡̛̩̯͋͒͘ê̴̡̙̹̈͝ ̷̦̜̞̃̆́̕w̶͖͒a̴̜̭̤̩̐̿͗̿t̶̡̻̊͂͒͝c̵̦̝͒h̴̟̔͠ë̸͎̖d̶̝̩͕̊́ ̸̤̭̈́̋̓̇į̶͙̖̑̂͒͗͜͝ţ̶̱̣̣̀̓ ̶̩̞̲̀a̸̻͕̾̑ľ̷͚̎̎̉l̷͇͙̚ ̶̛͉͉̺̟̈́f̴̨̀̋͋͐̽r̷̙̒̎̿o̶̤̒̌̉̚m̷̛̹͓͇̳̟̀̔ ̷̡̗̊̀͋̽̚ͅẗ̶͈̦̩̜̀̂͆ḧ̴̜͙̙̪͛ę̶̤͉̬̓̋̽ ̷̬̥̤̘͛̄̓̓g̵̢͓͚͛̿̅͝r̸̬̀o̴̢̫͙͓͌̈́͜u̴͉̝̿́n̴̖͈͍̻͂͊d̶̡̛̥̗̫͍̂̑̌̕.̵͍̫̞̐͝

̸͉̜̫̖̜̔̀͘H̵̡͎̺̆̈́̅̂͜ḙ̷͂̈́̒ ̶̳̇̓̕w̷͎̿̒̀͂̏â̸̯̝͔͌̾͑̚t̸̨̼͋ć̸̮̠͙̫̼͒̍h̸̙͉͇̽̈́̕̕͜e̵͎̪̰̯̎̂̀͆d̸̮̗̟̃̾̏̐ ̵̖̦͇̥̲̄͠t̴͓̻̄h̵͕̆̍̽̀͊e̶̩͌̃͛͝ ̵̠̘̫͗͑͊̓̅s̶̮͉̉͋̔͘t̷̫̟͍͋͝o̸̝̯͙͊̆r̶͇̩͎̣̗̎m̶̡͒̿̈́͜.̸̯̝̓

H̷̛͉̋̀͑͂͌̀͑̃̈́͗̀̊̀͐̚͝ẽ̴͉̹̖̻̼͖͓̃̎̃̄͘̕ ̸̨͙̘͇͇͕̲̩̞̲̖͚̖̄̈́͗͠ẅ̶̢̛̯̺́̽̃̀̾͒̾͐́͛͗͐̕̚̕a̵̱̅̓̋s̵̝̲̪̣͓̯̳̿̿͋̍̆̓̈̿͝͠ ̵̘̫͖̹̲͕̺̖̮̤̪͍̪̽ȓ̸̡̝̩̥̠̪̭̱̲̮͓͉͖̙̥̫̮̏̈͆͆̅͘e̴͎̺͓͖̞̞͂̀͑̓́̀̏͆̂̓̔̕̕̕s̵͉̜̦̼̼̙͚͖̯͖̗̫̠̗̥͇̫̽̂͐̀̉̈̀̈̕ṗ̸̡͎̦̔͊̑o̵͍͙̱̖̓̉̌̾̆́̈́̉̔̽̚̕ņ̷̖̰̟̼͓͔̞͚͙̹̀̂̓͑͛͐͋̍̕̚s̸̢̥̩͎͉͎͎̱̯̙̓̔͆͆̚i̵̡̧̛̬̺̮̼͓̖̟̗̼͉̞͆̐̿̿͜ͅb̵͖̱̙̻̱̜͓̩͓̙̜̗̤͓̩͂̄̊͂͜ͅl̵̨̛̗̝̦̦̜͉̗͕͙͖̓̑̂̄͒͂͆̾͑̊̏̍̚̕͜ȇ̷̢̤̟̭̤̬̉̈́͐ ̷͈͙̜́͋̒̾͛͗̍͐͆̇̃̍̐̕͠f̴̙̳̯͚͈͚̆̍̔̑̎͂̉̓̀̔͘̚͘͘͜ǫ̵̧̧̨̗̘͉̝̦̤̼̠̰̪͓̤͕͑̽̉͒́̈̀̑͂̈́̾̊̿ṟ̴̢̖̟̥͇̫̩̮͐̔̑́ ̷̛̬̜͕̜̳̊̂̉̍̀̾̕t̶̛̺͕͓̜̱̪̥̯̉̑̍̀͊͊͒̀̕̕̕͘͝͝h̵̡̨͎̹̦̠̮̤͕̣̯̖̆͂͒͗̍̈́̊̽͛͒̉͐i̶̛̛͔͇̊̄̏̂̋̅̎̾̑̓̍͆͘ṡ̵̛̜͓̫̙͕̫̻̘̝̠̙̬͔͚̗̓͌͊̓̆̋̊̃̇̃̽̓͜͝͝.̶͚͕̣͍̥̮̩̝̏͛͂͋͆̌̀

̷̣͔̱͈̣̠̗̲̌͌̔̎̒͆̇ͅŢ̷̜̺͖͖̱̩͇͂͒̌ȟ̴̨̳̹͖̲̳͑̎̀̒̃̀͑̈̓̏̍̉͆̏͠͠e̸̩͕̟̪͚͔͚̭͍͒̏̃ ̶̢̡̭̳̮̦͙̭͔͔̪̲̘̗͛̾̈͒̚͘͠ͅv̷̜͓̳̻̓͒͊̄̓̈́͂̆͋ŏ̷̢̰͎̼̔̌̀̀̄́̍̎͌́̆͘͝i̷̧̢͎̠̳̰̯͇͚̙̗͖͕͉̯͕̍̓̑̎̋͜c̸̡̧̢̛̥̳̦̣͓͙̝͔̥̿̿͂̑̇̑͛̐̓͐̂͑̈́̕͝e̶̗̤͖̯͔̙̯̳̺̫͖̥͉͇̿͊̈́̎̌̓̍̋͜͜ͅs̵̛̘͖̍́̽̾̆̐͌́̕ ̸̧̱͙̻̪̘͉̤̱̙̟̖̻̃͗̍͗̕͝d̷̦͙̺͎͕͙̝͚͖̝̼̬̯̑̐̇̌̊̂̍́͠ͅi̶͕̺̳͛̈͋̃͆͘͝d̵̢͎̜͔̝̦̲͇̥̰͚͇͈̟̩̣̰̀͆̍́͛̀̄͒̌̉̉̔̅͋̀̚ń̷̘̪͈̹̥̟͍̳͌̆͆̿̒̒ͅ'̵̢͍̤̤͕͙̞̠̙̈́̽͐̀̍̇̋̄̌̔̉̚̕͘͝͠ṱ̴̡̡͍͚͕̱͔̍ ̵̫͈̣͚̻̩̙̑̀l̷͎͍͓̼̣͕̗̦͔͍̄͋̈́̃̌̃̂̓͜͝ȩ̷̛͇̞̺͔̥̞̐̍̀̋̈́̽̄̓͂̅̈̚͠ṱ̷͎̦͇͛͋͐͋̽̋̄͋̈̂̽͂ ̴̨͕͑͆̅̽́́̈̂̀h̶̭͇̻̹͕̞͆͒̈͛̓͐̑̇̇̿̇̔̈͜ͅį̵̗͖͆́̿̈̐̔́́͒̀͐̔͘͝͝͠m̴̼̬̪̱̯̗͔̌̓̄͝͝͝ ̶̡̢̤̫̤̦͔̉̓͑́̐̚f̸͓͎̗̤̀̓̄͌͝ǫ̶̧̼͕̺̬̣̞̰̺̩͚̍̍́̀̾͑̅̍̒͂̐̕̚͝͝ͅr̴̢̢̨̡̧̩̭̠̺̱̬̥̼̖͘͜ͅģ̸̢̨̛̛͇̻͚̥͈͈̗̤̰̙̎̅̀̉͑̊́͒͑̀̿͠e̷̺̥͖̙̖͉͍̯͖̮͉̲̦͋̂̅͌̉̓͘̚ẗ̴͖͈̻͚̩͉̱̘͚̯̒͒̃́̈́̏́͐̏́̋͑͑̚͝.̷̢̛̛͚̦̻̘͖̭͍̣̜͓̣̪͂̒̏͌̽̀̀̈͋̐͝͝ͅ

̶̨̦͔͔̐̂T̴̜͇̱̈́̈́͠h̶̺͓̠́̆̽̎ͅͅe̶̠̅͑̓͠y̶̧̛̪͇̩̥͑̅́ ̸͈̙̚ĉ̵̫̝̞̾̓ụ̶̢̣̍̑͐ȓ̷̥̦s̸̛͖̲̦̫̠̈́e̶̢͇͈̓͌͗d̸̯͈̲͕̝̔͘.̵̡̛̫̦̏̍̄̕ ̸͙̘̮̘̂̋Ṯ̷̝̖̀̀̊͋͂ḧ̵̜̠̙̲̞́̈́̕ē̷̫ỷ̴̝͇̹́ ̴̲͇͕͎͔́̉̿͑̎a̶̞̓͆́c̷̢̳̱̰̔̒̿͂͗c̸̣̮͉͆̈́̀͝ȕ̵̢̨̕̚͘ͅs̸̙̟͔̫̅͋̄̍è̸̢̡͕̰d̸̛͇̫̯̃̂͝.̶̼̤͉̱̿̎̅͜ ̷͈͉̗͉̀̋͌͆T̷̡̡̛͔̎̊̀̓h̸̞̠̫̓̎̇ě̶̡̛͉͕͎̲͆͋͝ÿ̵͚̪́̌͘͝͠ ̸͚͋̈͗p̵̪̀ǘ̵̟̱̠͔̯n̸̝̻̰̥̬̑i̸̬̜̝̐̈́̅͜͜ş̵̫͕̒̈́̈́̂h̶̝͋̑̒́e̸̼̺̜̋̑̆̏͜d̶̘͕̭͎̈́͜.̷̻̹̣͇̇̕͝ ̵̪̗̋̍̄͌͝T̷̹̾͛͛h̸̤͐̌̋ẻ̴̲͘͜ẙ̴̨͚̫̠̒̓͝ ̶̜̟̄̅̋̉d̸̫̘̎̓e̷͔̐̈̈͋s̷̛̙̒͗̚̚t̶̗̙̦̤̏̐ŗ̸͓̱̤̓̌ô̷̯̂̔ͅẏ̶̛̪̦͌̐ḙ̷͚̾d̶͎̩͎̲́̓͌ͅ.̶̫̭̭̠̀͊͑̾͆ ̶̜̪͙̓̚͝T̴̢̲̮̰̖́̔̋̕ḩ̸̬̙̘̀͛é̸͙̬̝̖̄y̸͍̓̒̈̌ ̷̰̗͌h̷̰̥̍å̶̛̖͕͕̃t̵̫̮͙̄̈́e̴̢̹͒̍d̸̝̟̝̗̀̓͘.̴̰͗͒͊̏͘ ̴̘̭̓̅̍T̷̨̨͎͔̉̉̒̆͠h̸͂͌̔͘ͅe̶̦̺̪̓͋̿̐̋ẙ̶̯͕͆͝ ̴͚̲̌̋̋͊̈́q̶̛̜̝͛̔̆̈ư̴̙̪͖̠̅͒͝͠ȩ̶̮̑̅̾š̶͓̎t̵̼͝i̵̮͚̖̳̦̿̿́̑ǫ̸̓́̚̚͝ņ̵̬̤͎́͝e̷̡̥̖͌̾̇̓d̷̛̘̍.̸̡͍͍̀̀ ̷̬͈̩͗T̴͚̳̮̍̔̏̇͝h̸̤̓e̷̞̐̏̚ỷ̴̱̀̈́̓͑ ̴̅̿͌̑ͅh̸̥̮͂͝u̸̡̬̺̎r̶̩͔͔̠̺̽ṯ̷̰̙͉̅̀͜.̶̙͕̳͇̓ ̷̟͔̼̗͇̊̍T̶̨̳̣́̔h̷̗͚̺̝̯͊ȩ̶̯̳̄̚y̴̨̛͕͕͐̎̔̒ ̴̮͚́̋h̷̫̬̩̟̋̌̉u̷̪̍̈̅ř̴͈̣͇̬̆̿̆̿ͅţ̷̛̙͖͇͍̔.̸͖̝̰̪̖̽̿ ̸͇̣̗̟̈́͜T̸̫̃͗ḩ̸̥̤͒͒̑̉̍e̴̜̯̟͊̐͆̃y̸̡͙̝͌̽ ̸̠͕͙̙̿̒̾h̴̡̬͖͇́́͒ͅu̵̝͖͕̬͒̏́̀̚ř̴͜͝t̸̢͉͕̐͗͑́ͅ.̸̛̺̿̓͑͝ ̴͉̃̄͌̇͠T̸̢̻͉̮̍̆ḥ̶͉͝͝͝e̶̡̗̮͂́̾̌y̴̜̤͇͗͘̕h̴̤̻̭̎̑̀̈̅u̷̙̻̺̪͗͗̐r̶̘̈͠t̵͔́͠t̸̮̺͎̠̓̎̈͗́h̴͇̜̰̽́̓ë̷̬͎́̃̋͛͆y̶͔̳̜͋͆̈́͘ḧ̵̙́̔͑̀ͅu̶͓̞̱͂́ṙ̶̡̛̲̣͖̊̄ț̴̨̗͔̓͊͐͝ẗ̵̛̩͈̹̥̗̂͂͘ḩ̴̝̯̲͔͋̃ę̶̼̻͚̫͗̆y̷̬͕̞͂̾́͋͝h̴͖̘͇̰̉͠ų̴̟̜̖̞̽̍̚ṛ̴͝t̵͉̘̎

"Why?"

Kirtsugu Emiya woke with a lurch, barely having time to register Maiya being to his left and the fact she had her hands pressing down on his chest before he turned to the opposite side and puked out everything his stomach held. He spent a while there, retching and groaning, pain racketing up his body and blooming in his head. His eyes hurt. His mind hurt. His whole self hurt.

When he finally emptied out his stomach, after fuck knows how long, he managed to regain some sense of composure. He pushed off the filthy floor, still on his knees and desperately drew in air by his mouth. Maiya offered him a bottle of water, part of the rations they had brought, and dear Lord, he could have kissed her if he wasn't busy chugging the bottle and spitting the water out to get rid of the awful taste in his mouth.

He didn't have the strength to rise but he did manage to stumble his way to a nearby wall, dropping against it and feeling how battered his body was. He couldn't even speak. BUt his eyes did question, when they slid to Maiya.

"I don't know." Was her response, and that instilled more dread in him than he ever expected. "One moment it looked like the two of you were going to kill each other and the next... Something happened with the Master of Caster's sword. It went- haywire. Some purple flames started coming out of it. He started screaming, and those two went to help him. You were convulsing on the floor and muttering, so I got you out as quickly as possible. They didn't give chase."

Small mercies. He would take them. Even so, he couldn't escape the jumbled mess that was the image that started playing in his head the moment their eyes met. He couldn't forget it. And that question...

Who was that?

Kayneth was not having a good night.

First was dealing with his Servant's incompetence. Then listening to Shielder's asinine demands. And now an attempted bombing threat!?

This wasn't how the Holy Grail War was supposed to be! This was meant to be a battle between mages! A test of skills and knowledge gained trhough centuries, passed down from generation to generation! Instead he had to deal with an idiot throwing himself between Heroic Spirits and some moronic terroristic twats!

Hopefully the representatives for the Three FOunding Families would be more regal than this...

He didn't have good enough grasp on the participants of the war to accurately guess who was behind the bombs, but Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald had not become a Lord of the Clock Tower without learning how to properly analyse his surroundings. Already, he was looking over the few Masters he knew and was discarding who could be behind this. That little Velvet rat didn't have the stomach for this kind of thing, Tokiomi Tohsaka was a respectable magus who would never stoop so low, Kotomine Kirei was already out of the war, and he knew Shielder would not do something like this, the act going against everything the man had done so far.

That left the Einzberns...

Kayneth was pulled away from his thoughts when Sola-Ui grabbed his shoulder and directed his attention to one of the police squads in the area. They had already called for backup from the fire brigade and ambulences from two nearby hospitals, seeing the state the hotel was left in and fearing for the worst. No one should have gotten hurt, but outliers always existed. But what called the mage's attention was the Caster Servant fevently arguing with one of the officers while supporting her Master with his arm over her shoulders.

The sight was enough to astonish him, seeing the man who survived a Noble Phantasm look as though he had just come down with a fever, barely able to stay in his feet. It wasn't long before the man was taken in one of the squad cars, the officer in charge barking out orders to his men before getting in the drivers seat himself and taking off. Left behind on the scene, various men taking off in a different direction, to a building away from the hotel.

Now just what has happened with that one? Going so far as leaving for the hospital...

Perhaps he should make a visit...

Unbeknownst to any, a blonde woman in a regal dress was staring at the car with Jaune Arc with a dead stare that would have chilled even the most seasoned of warriors.

Lifting her hand, she manifested a long, simple white sword. However, it brimmed with divine power. She made to shoot it at the car-

"That would just make things more difficult for us." The man in the yellow raincoat spoke behind her, staring at the exact same car with a calmer expression.

"You need him alive. I don't."

"And I would not allow for him to die without a fight." He walked over to her sword, gripping it in a tight clasp before utterly shattering it in an instant. Shaking his hand free of the smoke that came from his contact of the Holy weapon, he turned back and walked away from the woman, saying, "Do remember who approached who first, my dear."

With that, he and his entire presence, dissapeared with a burst of booming noise.

No AN today. I'm tired.

Chapter Text

Tokiomi Tohsaka sighed as his bones and muscles started complaining from all the weight he was carrying. He really was getting too old.

But still, someone had to fix his private study.

After he had used a Command Spell to get Archer out of trouble, he had expected the King of Heroes’ usual arrogance and irritation. Instead, he had been met with a confused Gilgamesh mutterring to himself before he suddenly burst into action. Namely, locking himself in his Master’s private study and ruining the place. And it wasn’t even with a tantrum beffiting someone like the Babylonian King, but by tearing through all of his books with an insatiable need. For an hour.

Sighing once more, he bemoaned the lack of normal servants in his manor that could take care of this.

“Whoa. It looks like a hurricane made a visit.”

Tokiomi would never admit he jumped when he heard the voice. He could be in his deathbed but he still refused to say he was surprised by...

Turning to the now unlocked door of his study, Tokiomi raised a brow as he saw a pale face with big red eyes hidden by a white, bone mask with red markings forming the shapes of the moon in it’s many phases. Dressed in a bright white raincoat that loosely stuck to her small body, with numerous child-like drawings, mostly of fishes and other aquatic animals, all in different colors. Slung over her shoulder was a packed and clearly weighted bag that seemingly did nothing to hither her movements. With fingerless gloves and big combat boots of blue and gold, anyone who looked at her woulod be amused by the child that seemed like she wanted to look like a grown-up, but gave up half way through.

With ahuge smile on her face, Lily Ladre waved at the Head of the Tohsaka Family despite him being right in front of her. “Hi Mister Tohsaka!”

The girl walked further in, careful not to step on one of the books, and casually sat one of his plush chouches, directly in front of his desk. She turned back to him with an impatient gaze and a small smile, eliciting a short sigh from him. He smiled like all fathers did when dealing with an overactive child. But in this case she was more like a distant niece, wasn’t she?

Tokiomi picked up his cane that was left standing on it’s own in close proximity. A little trick he had learned in his time. He walked with a straight gait and sat at the couch before his desk, his body sinking into the comfortable cushions. “And just what are you doing here, Lily?”

“The Doctor sent me here to get an update on the War and the state of the catalysts he lent you.” The teenage girl, clearly no older than sixteen but always insisting she was older than she looked,  “And also to ask if you wanted to keep them for the next Grail War or if you want to give them back in exchange for something.”

Of course he would, the little brat. Votos Ladre, ‘The Doctor’, was a very eccentric and dangerous man. But most of all, he was an even more annoying pest. If he had not been necessary for the Holy Grail War, Tokiomi would have made sure not to get involved with the man in any way. But no matter what, the Masters needed their catalysts and Mystic Codes for the war and, with the right bargaining chip, they could obtain almost any with the Man in The Raincoat.

Pushing such matters aside, he answered the girl truthfully. “The catalyst given for the summoning of Gilgamesh worked perfectly.However, the one that was meant to summon Hassan-I-Sabbah did not meet expectations.”

Taking the pointed barb with grace, the apprentice sighed. “That, I imagine, is another reason why I was sent here.” She took out and rummaged in her bag for a second, before she took out a white bone mask from his coat, laying it on top of the manson wood of his desk. The mask had the form of a skull, though only the top part and it was cracked in places. “Looks like someone managed to get one over the Doctor.”

“Hmm.” The Tohsaka Head leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing. Don’t lie to me. He secretly thought, careful not to let it slip. You and Votos came to me with that dried-up snake skin and the Wasteland Survival Guide for a reason. He wanted a Knight of the Round Table in the War. He wanted to accuse the man of cheating him out of his wanted Servant, laying his anger on the apprentice in front of him, but he held off. It would, after all, be very imprudent to do so.

To this day, no one knew what happened to the last client who insulted Lily in Votos’ earshot. And he doubted that man wasn’t listening right now.

Taking his silence as righteous anger, the young girl moved to assuage the magus. “Worry not, he was justly reprimanded for the mistake. I promise he won’t screw up like that again.”

Ah. Yes, that is very easy to believe. He had met with Votos before, and had seen the relationship he had with his apprentice and the other two women he worked with. While one of them would likely just let him off with a (literal) slap on the wrist, the other one would likely have waterboarded him for hours after she realized his fumble.

She was scary like that.

Loudly slamming her hands on his desk, Lily smiled as his attention came back to her. She leaned forward, pushing into his personal space, excitedly asking, “Anyway! How’s the war chugging along, Mister Tohsaka? Are the Servants fighting a lot? Are they as cool as the Doctor said? Did they use their Noble Phantasms?!”

He paused to take a deep breath and waited for the girl to compose herself, before he calmly said, “It has been going well. Gilgamesh’s power is unrivalled, even if he refuses to use the Sword of Rupture. He simply doesn’t see anyone worthy of it. And Assassin...” He paused as he remembered the feeling of standing in the same room as that hateful spirit’s glare. Pushing it down, he continued, “For as much of a surprise it was, he has served a very useful purpose. With his Noble Phantasm, we have been  able to find most of the Masters involved in the war, with the exception of the Einzbern’s and Rider’s Master.”

“Wow. Looks like even without Hassan, you still got a pretty good Servant. How neat.” The girl spoke in some strange slang Tokiomi wouldn’t have the hope to understand. For someone as involved in the Moonlit World as he, it was impossible to  pick up modern slang. He did catch the sarcasm though. “But “unrivaled”? Archer? Didn’t that Servant back at the docks go and fight off the King of Heroes? He was really cool. Like a knight from a storybook!”

Torquoise eyes sharpened and snapped to the oblivious girl, grinning to nothing as she pumped her arms up and excitedly reenacted the fight as well as she could. Suspicions ran amok through his mind. The fact one Votos Ladre’s agents had been watching and had hidden herself well enough that not even Assassin had found her was a great problem. Greater than any could imagine without the knowledge Tokiomi had.

There was precariously little information about Votos Ladre. No one in the Mages Association or the Holy Church had any idea who he was, where he came from, how he had come to access such precious items, or what he did with the items he took in trade. The oldest written record of him was an excerpt from one of his ancestors who participated in the Third Holy Grail War, before she married into the Tohsaka family, that mentioned ‘the Man in the Yellow Raincoat’.

“I’m fairly certain that he was the Master of Rider. My memory is spotty when it comes to him, but I remember seeing that damned smiled somewhere in the War.   He was abrasive, the quickest one to pick a fight and the most careless one in them as well. I can only attribute his success as one of the final Masters to his Servant’s competence.

I thought he would stay out of it after he lost his Servant, but he stuck around pestering the other Masters, almost like he enjoyed ruining their plans.

But when he saw the way my sister got injured... he was more than quick to help. It was so sudden, but he was so serious, his body shaking as he held his hands to her body... and performed what I can only describe as an impossible miracle. She was healed so easily, almost like that damned { IIIIIII } hadn’t nearly taken her head.

But... there was something wrong with it... something... corrupt.

To whoever is reading this, be you Tohsaka or Edelfelt.

Stay away from the Man in the Yellow Raincoat.”

Tokiomi wasn’t the type of idiot that spat on the legacy of his ancestors like Kariya, and had tried to keep a distance from any contact with the man. Untli Votos had been sitting at his dinner table with a dried snake skin inside a wooden box.

Caution was necessary. But winning the war was more important.

“That ‘man’ was rather strong.” He began cautiously, seeing the way the collector beamed at the words. “But I’m afraid he was no Servant at all. Assassin claims that he was one of the Masters. The Master of Caster to be precise.”

That shot any unneeded thoughts out of the girl’s head, her grin vanishing into oblivion and clear surprise overtaking his features. Good. I ill need more enemies.

She put a hand on her chin, putting up an overly exagerated thinking pose. He looked at her flatly, not being fooled in the slightest. Especially with the bead of sweat running down her brow.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair, Mister Tohsaka. Seems like you got a full plate already.” Suddenly pushing off the table, the girl made her way to the door, hiding a small gem at the couch the Tohsaka Head was sat at. Before, she left however, she turned back to the mage with an uncharacteristic deep frown. “Oh and... I should warn you that the serial killer that’s been going around changed their targets.”

The Tohsaka raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject and mannerism, but still waved his hand for her to continue. She turned back fully, red eyes staring back with a serious gaze, her hands clenching into fists so tight they bled on the floor. “While he seems to still kidnap children and young women... he started exploring the field of people with particularly high magical potential.  Some even had semideveloped Magical Circuits. And a lot of them with black hair and blue eyes.”

Lily closed her eyes, missing the panicked look on Tokiomi’s face. The mage’s pupils shook in place, his throat clamp and tight as his mind brought up the memory of a photo he kept on his person at all times. One that held the faces of two little girls that had been forced to be separated for the rest of their lives. All because of the rules of the Moonlit World.

“And from what we’ve seen...” She continued, Tokiomi forcing himself to look upon the woman, who held a yellow folder in her hand. A folder that was tossed towards him, laying atop one of his seats. “There was evidence of a man in a white cloak in the crime scene.”

Walking down the stairs as carefully as his sleep-deprived brain could in the middle of the night, Kiritsugu Emiya rubbed his eyes with a fist and he stiffled a yawn with another.

Tonight hadn’t been the best. Not only did the entire Grail War now knew the True Name of his Servant, he had failed on getting rid of the two biggest threats despite having such na easy such at one of them. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting frustrated. He was Kiritsugu Emiya, The Magus Killer! He didn’t take pride on the title but screwing up three times in one night wasn’t like him.

Maybe he shouldn’t have rung that alarm. Without the warning maybe they would have died...

He stopped in the middle of the hallway. That thought. It was the kind of necessary action he needed to take in order to win the War. And yet, the thought made him sick. So sick he actually needed time to quell his stomach lest he throw up again. He was growing soft.

He returned to walking, his gait both aimless yet with a purpose only his subconcious knew. His waking mind, what little of it was functioning, unfortunately returned to the strange vision he had... when he was faced with that terrible sword.

He hadn’t been able to make sense of anything he saw in it. It was like grainy footage from a corrupted tape; it was hard to make out any details. It was easier to understand the sounds he had heard, however. They were sounds he was slitghly more familiar with. Screams of pain, of death. The howls of those that were inflicted a pain that they never should have experienced. He felt what little food remained in his stomach start to rise when he remembered those screams.

There were only two things he saw and heard perfectly in that vision... And a third, a feeling that he couldn’t escape.

Red eyes staring at him with hatred. “Why?” The question rung in his head.

And the feeling that it was all his fault.

In the hours after, when he returned to the Einzbern Mansion, he poured over various books on cursed swords and what little information he had about magi who were selling or had sold cursed Mystic Codes. He had thought the sword a weapon with the effect to poison an opponent’s mind, believing it so strongly to the point of asking Irisviel to check him for such curses, but after Maiya gave him a much calmer report(and his panicked mind had more time to process it), he threw the idea away. There was no point in buying, or even making, a Mystic Code like that if it was going to affect the user just as badly as the target.

He had then thought that Caster was attempting to betray her Master, but forsook that theory too. She had been friendly with him, even if her words were lightly biting. He expected the two to be at each other’s throats all the time considering their first encounter, but now he imagined that had been some kind of scheme to throw other Masters off their game, like it did with him. Strange that they would go so far as expend a Command Seal. Those things are priceless.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt a pleasent aroma tickle his senses. He looked around, noticing that one of the rooms, the one that led directly to the front entrance, had it’s lights on. A trail of steam came from it, the source of the smell from earlier. His head tilted as he looked at it, utterly bewildered. Who was cooking at this hour?

It couldn’t be Irisviel; she was such a disaster in the kitchen he, Illya and surprisingly Jubstacheit, had all banned her from ever approaching it. And it couldn’t be Maiya either, she had raided the refrigerator and locked herself in her room. Last time he checked she was passed out over numerous books. Seems like she had the same idea as him.

He put his hand on the handle of his Thompson Contender, ready to whip it out in a moment’s notice. He looked inside the room only to find a mop of blonde hair busy at the stove. His confusion grew as he stared, his brain trying to rebbot after seeing Lancer of all people cooking.

“Rough time sleeping, Master?” She suddenly asked, making him jump in place. She had noticed him? Not only was he soft, looks like he was getting old too. But maybe he was expecting too much from himself; a Servant’s senses were much better than a humans. She turned around with a flat look, holding up a plate of steaming food. “Care for a taste? Sleeping on na empty stomach is bound to end in trouble.”

“What... are you even doing ? I thought Servants didn’t need to eat?”

“Well, the night hasn’t been what I would call productive. Even more so I would call it infuriating.” Her eye twitched as she spoke, before she took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on her face. “So I decided to see what I could whip up in the kitchen. I found out later in life that creating something, even if it is to be devoured later, can be quite calming.” Her body suddenly shivered. “And because when Sir Gawain was on kitchen duty, you had to learn to make your own meals to survive.”

Kiritsugu pulled a chair for himself, giving her a raised eyebrow. “Was the man that bad of a cook?”

“Yes. He only ever made mashed potatoes.” He raised na eyebrow at that, moving to point out the inconsistency of her words, only to be stopped by her hand. “And before you say it Master, yes, I am aware Britain didn’t have potatoes back then. It’s simply that Gawain was such a disaster that anything he made inevatably ended up looking like mashed potatoes.”

The two sat in silence for a time, simply acknowledging each other’s presence and appreaciating the chance to eat good food with company. Eating alone was a sordid affair, Kiritsugu knew, even if he didn’t avoid it too much. It was still pretty good to have someone around. Sometimes, depending on who it was, the taste of the dish could be improved simply for them being there.

It wasn’t really the case between the two of them. One was a weapon for the other, even if they weren’t as antagonistic as both expected at the beginning of the war. Kiritsugu nodded his head as he took another bite, raising his head towards Lancer. “These are pretty good.”

“Thank you. While they aren’t to the point I would like, I simply didn’t have time to practice like Jaune did.”

“The Knight of Compassion?” Kiritsugu asked, remembering the real name of the man. Leaning back on his seat, he sighed as he brought both hands up and started counting off with his fingers. “So, he was a miracle healer, one of the stronger Knights of The Round Table, your boyfriend-” -‘Emiya I’ll stab you’- “and a cook that could top this? What the hell was that man?”

“A Heroic Spirit from another dimension.” Lancer said casually, putting down the knife she had aimed at him.

...

...

Kiritsugu blinked. Had he heard her right? A Heroic Spirit? From another dimension? That couldn’t be right. Not even the Holy Grail could summon beings from another world. Leaning forward with shock on his face, he incredulously asked, “What?”

Lancer paused right as she brought the spoon to her mouth. She raised a brow at his face, confusedly asking, “Did I not tell you?”

“No. No, you didn’t tell me he was a bloody Servant! And from another dimension?! HOW?!”

Artoria held up a hand to stop him, her eyes closed as she waited for him to even out his breathing and sit back down. Only when she heard him doing so, and after checking with her own eyes, coming face to face with his desire to understand the mystery, did she begin her explanation. “When I decided to take up Caliburn and my destiny as King, I thought myself certain that I could make any sacrifice for my people. I believed that I could make any decision without hesitation. Anything, for the kingdom.”

“But I was wrong. When my hand reached for Caliburn, I hesitated. Because I was afraid. Merlin, that pansy, smelled blood in the water and immediately jumped on it.” She shook her head with a small smile playing on her lips, amused by the memory of her mentor. “He brought out a scroll and a pair of magical stones that could summon all manners of things. Merlin used one of them to summon some gelatinous dish that would better be called a biological weapon. I used the other... to summon a Heroic Spirit who could understand my heart.”

Kiritsugu found himself enthralled by the tales she told him. Of how even during his summoning, Jaune Arc was already mirred with trouble, somehow bringing with him a weird soul-eating ghost along when he was summoned. Not na allied familiar, but a monster that had been attempting to kill a friend of the knight. The worst part was, the man didn’t even agree to the summoning! He just got dragged in!

She procceded to tell him of her time with the man, of how he told her of various other worlds, where dragons raided the skies, where mutants walked on desert wastelands. She told him of so many strange things, some so ludicrous he even began to doubt her. She must have been messing with him, there was no way a man could die and just start hopping between dimensions like that!

Without even meaning to, the two started arguing, Artoria insisting in the validity of her familiar’s life story and Kiritsugu contemplating if his Servant was either insane or far more gullible than he first thought. He paused when she began discussing the people Jaune Arc surrounded himself with. Primarily because of one person, the first partner he allegedly made when he first Jumped.

The Dohvakiin; Dragonborn. A blonde woman who could destroy mountains with her voice alone.

Before he could ask her to elaborate, they were interrupted.

Entering the room, Maiya immediately called for their attention. “Kiritsugu. There’s something you’ll want to hear. It’s from the church.”

“I assume you haven’t seen the news recently, Tokiomi.”

“In an underground bunker buried deep in my home’s basement? Getting a signal down here would be quite difficult Risei.” Tokiomi chucled to his own little joke. Risei’s brow creased as he noticed the light panic in his voice, in the way he spoke a bit too fast. Something seemed to have shaken the man. “Just what is the issue, my friend?”

Risei turned to the other man standing behind him, the older priest stepping aside to make space. “Kirei.”

The hidden Master of Assassin stepped forward, emotionless eyes peering into the equipment that would send his message to his mentor. “The Master of Caster has been drawing much attention. He and his Servant have been extremely careless, with him doing not only this Shielder of Fuyuki act but also his actions tonight. You know of him destroying the warehouse district, but he also done much more.”

“Not only did he break the rules and somehow summon an extra Servant-” Tokiomi jumped in his chair when he heard that, almost interrupting Kirei with a loud yell- “Both the new Servant and he publicly used magecraft, he falling from a building and walking it off like it was nothing. Many news channels are already theorising what he could be and calling him a super-soldier or an alien.”

“It won’t be long before someone from the Mages’ Association takes notice of this.” Risei stepped into the conversation, his stren voice making Tokiomi straighten out his back out of reflex. “If an Enforcer Squad gets involved, they may attempt to stop the Holy Grail War in order to deal with him, derailing everything and putting untold amounts of pressure on both of our backs. We must deal with this fool as soon as possible.”

There was a long silence from the other end of the line. They waited as the man seemed to fume, anger radiating from him as he mulled over the report. Tokiomi was a gentleman, composed even in the worst of times, but even he had a limit. A thousand little things happening at once were more than enough to tip him over the edge. To make him asct hastily. To make a mistake.

“He’s not even trying to hide...” He released a hot puff of air, pushing his stress down to the best of his abilities, before turning back to the gramophone. “Very well. As one of those meant to protect the secrets of magecraft, I cannot allow for this to continue. Especially considering what she told me...”

Kirei’s eyes narrowed as the gramophone caught Tokiomi’s somber muttering at the end. Who told him what? Considering the context it had to be something to do with the Master of Caster. But what could it be?

Was it about those pretty flames that showed up when he faced Kiritsugu Emiya?

“As Overseer of The Holy Grail War, I have the ability of bending the rules by a bit.” RIsei informed after a quick pause. “We will make the other Masters take them down. The very fact he summoned an extra Servant despite his already grand strength should make the others panic enough to go after him.”

“A suggestion, Risei.” The two turned back to the gramophone, Risei listening intently. “Tell them that Caster and her Master have been involved in the recent kidnappings and murders. Knowing how noble some Servants tend to be, that should be more than enough to have them frothing at the mouth.”

The priests could admit to some surprise when hearing the suggestion, but they held off their questions. Risei left to come up with an appropriate story to tell the other Masters and a way to get in contact with them. Kirei wished a good night of sleep for his mentor before going to his room, his mind filled with questions.

Tokiomi was acting strange. His tone had been somber the entire time and even for him coming up with a lie like that was unusual. It could be explained away with his desire to win the War but he still found himself suspicious. Piled with his witness to the battles of Caster’s team, and the strange phenomena Shielder’s sword had when they faced Kiritsugu Emiya, Kirei found himself strangely more... excited.

Before his usual admonishments could resurface, he heard light chatter coming from a door close to him. He looked at it, his eyebrow rising when he noted it was his room. Father should be on the other side of the church at the moment, and no one else should have gotten this far inside without permission. Then he heard the voice of Assassin and grew even more confused. He couldn’t be talking to the Hound Knights, they didn’t have their own voices to talk back.

Trusting that Assassin would have taken care of any intruders, he entered his office. Immediately, he came to the sight of a large crack on the wall, like a spiderweb that went to and fro the bottom and top of the wall. He blinked a few times as he stared at it, completely confused. Turning to the side, he saw Archer lounging on his sofa with a half-empty tall glass of wine in his hand, and Assassin in a seat beside the King of Heroes, nursing his own drink.

The Servant of the Bow was grinning from ear to ear, his pose relaxed as could be, as he sat surrounded by wine bottles carefully placed on the floor. The Servant saluted the priest with his hand, saying, “This may be a smaller collection than Tokiomi’s own, but these bottles are certainly of higher quality. Are you really the apprentice here?”

“Ah.” Kirei exclaimed, coming to the conclusion the two had had a fight in the middle of his office before they found his stash of wine. He walked forward, picking up a few bottles before asking, “And what exactly happened here?”

“I arrived to deal with an intruder. Once I saw Archer, we just traded some barbs and nothing more. Though the wall was something else entirely.” Assassin spoke up, Gilgamesh looking annoyed and mocking him by making that ‘blah-blah’ gesture. Assassin clearly saw it, his right eye twitching for a second before he pushed through and ignored it. “Speaking of other matters, what happened to the Hounds I sent after you? I lost contact with them and the only thing I got was giberrish.”

“It would seem that your dogs really are nothing more than stupid animals.”

“Shut up, Archer.”

“Your security detail was massacred.” Kirei interrupted firmly, using his words to shock the two and prevent any fighting. It worked, thankfully, bringing Archer’s and Assassin’s respectively lazy and sharp gazes to him. He continued, puttin the empty bottles away. “After I confronted someone, we were interrupted by Caster. It seems seeing your mother was enough for their Madness... Enhancement...”

Kirei trailed off, his body freezing as he felt a familiar pressure. He didn’t even have to turn around to know what was happening, but turn around he did, mainly because he was curious what exactly he would see. Assassin’s face, overtaken by fury, galring into his eyes. Just like the first time he was summoned and told his wish for the Grail would be ignored for the sake of anothers. The way he glared, the way the room’s temperature dropped to the bottom as he restrained himself from just destroying whatever it was that angered him. It seems even mentioning Morgan is enough to drive him up the wall. Maybe his own Madness Enhancement will pop up now.

For as much as Kirei lightly chuckled in his head when seeing those eyes again, he wondered just what Command Seal was going to save him this time.

“Oh?” Archer perked up. Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, he turned to Kirei. “My, oh my, It seems someone has quite a bit of free time in their hands. Going out, quite late at that, without the church’s precious protection? Could it be you are becoming dissatisfied with Tokiomi’s orders, little priest?”

“Are you?” Kirei asked, just trying to get the heat off his back.

“Who wouldn’t?” Archer lazily threw one hand to the air, bemoaning, “The man thinks himself a scheming mastermind, and while I admit his offerings to summon me were intresting, he is such a bore. All he is useful to his to be an anchor tying me to this world.”

“Despite my works with the man,” Another voice, one that didn’t belong to either Gilgamesh or Assassin, spoke with a cheerful tone that paradoxically sent a chill down Kirei’s spine. He froze and, with a startle, realized he had not noticed anyone else on the room. “I too have to admit to falling asleep during his many lectures.”

“Ah, yes.” Archer smiled widely as he released an amused breath. Raising his flute in toast to the unseen man, the King of Heroes “It would seem we forgot, but you were telling me of a delightful story. Would mind to continue? It is hilarious.”

“What?” Kirei turned his head, catching sight of the man sitting behind him. The man had dark-blonde hair tied into a ponytail, sliding down his nape. He had a bright yellow raincoat on, but despite the rain outside, there wasn’t a drop of water on him. Despite having his eyes closed, he waved directly at Kirei’s confused self, with a smile on his face. “Who... are you?”

“Ah man. Don’t tell me Toki never told you about me.” The blonde shook his head with an amused smile, a long sigh leaving him. He brought one hand and pointed to himself with his thumb, grinning smugly. “I’m the guy that got you the catalyst to summon Assassin. Came here to apologize for not getting you one for Hassan, but it seems like your Servant’s still pretty cool. Name’s Ladre, by the way. Votos Ladre.”

“Now, now, let’s not forget your story.” Archer spoke out, calling attention to what he wanted like an impatient child. “I will admit to some interest to this... Quincy, you called him?”

“Heh. Yeah, it was his race, though I don’t know if he used to be human. It’s a whole different world so shit’s weird.” He waved his hand like the existance of an undiscovered dimension was a minor inconvenience. Strangely enough, Kirei felt that it was to the man. An unimportant detail. “One day he decided the worlds didn’t deserve to exist and he would collide the human and Shinigami worlds together and make a new home for his children, the Quincy, and to hell with everyone ese.”

“A typical maniac, just like a magus.” Assassin spat, his eyes darkening even more. His whole body rattled in place, the glass in his hand cracking from the sudden pressure. He growled in a gravely voice; “Torturing and killing his own compatriots for his own goals, or just because they annoyed him.” His dark eyes suddenly lowered, sukken and despaired as he muttered, “But perhaps I shouldn’t be the one to speak up.”

“No. You shouldn’t.” Votos said, his voice low, his tone frigid, as he looked at Assassin. Kirei actually thought he would jump and strike at Assassin, the sudden pressure on the room and the tightness of the walls making him breathe heavily. Ladre was all smiles in the next second, turning to the man trapped in their discourse. “That should be left to the Holy man among us.”

“What do you say Kirei?” The priest jumped, suddenly on the spot as the two Servants and strange man turned to look at him with expectant and amused gazes. Almost as if in on a joke that had been told before he had arrived. “About a man that would manipulate his subordinates for his ambition, betray their trust when they outlived their usefullness, and kill them without a hint of remorse?”

“What about his silly little ‘Holy Selection’?” Archer cut in before Kirei could form a thought on the matter, much less get over the shock of learning  so many warcrimes comited by one man. “Taking away the powers and life force of his soldiers to strengthen himself and his elite. Turning those he deemed weak and tainted into nothing but bone. What suffering they must have gone through? The pain of dying so abruptly, of having the skin and flesh seared from your bones... ”

“The pain of being betrayed by the King and Father they all trusted.” Assassin muttered solemnly, his gravely tone reverbrating in Kirei's bones. “Such... suffering...”

“That’s...” Kirei stopped to think over what he just heard, carefull to not blurt out anything that might offend anyone present. Assassin might feel daring with Kirei’s dwindling Command Seals, Archer was far too trigger happy and Ladre... he got the feeling that man could put him down like a dog. “Those are the actions of an evil man corrupted by the devil’s work. He is...  a monster...”

“They are. Even if Yhwach’s motive was reasonable after what happened to the Soul King, the lengths he went to made it near impossible to call him anything but.” He took a sip of his drink before turnig to look at Kirei, his eyes still closed yet peering uncomfortably deep in the man. With a grin, Ladre asked, “But you know what happened to him at the end?”

“He was stopped, I imagine.” Kirei spewed the same rethoric he had always heard; that no matter the evils that assail humanity, God would save them. “God must have blessed someone in order to st-”

“He won.” The priest’s words were cruelly cut off by a cold voice delivered by a mouth set into a snake-like grin, filled with malicious satisfaction. “The only man that could stop him died by Yhwach’s own hands.”

Sudden silence consumed the room, as the three absorved the information, the fact that, in this story, the monster had come out on top. That a man had destroyed the world without The Lord stopping him. Kirei didn’t know- didn’t understand why he suddenly began breathing as heavily as he was now. Was it because of the loss of life? The thousands,no, billions that would have died due to one man’s ambition? Or was it the fear that the god he had put his hopes on would simply...

“Wait.” Kirei suddenly said, bringing attention back to him. The sudden thought he had managed to calm him down, though not by much. He was still gripping his cross with a grip so tight it could break the symbol of The Son of God. “If those worlds truly did collapse, if this ‘Yhwach’ truly succeded... then how come we aren’t suffering any repercussions for his act? If entire worlds were destroyed and a new one built on their ashes then-”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ladre laughed, stopping the priest in his tracks. The blonde man leaned back in his seat with a light chuckle. “Alaya made sure to get rid of that world.”

“It’s what it does. Yhwach created a world where humanity no longer feared death, and so, they stagnated. There was no greed or ambition to make people want to reach new heights, especially with the Father of Quincy making sure no one went against his rule. So The Counter Force just went there and-” He manifested out a pair of scissors in his hand and- “Snipped it out of existance. One of the few times I agreed with the decision.”

Kirei stared at the man, his spirit rattled by the words, his eyes searchign for any sign of deceit from the blonde. But he found nothing. No lie, no trickery, only cold, hard truth. A truth not learned from others, but one experienced by the self. He swallowed a lump as he asked, “What are you-”

“Doing here?” He interrupted Kirei again, knowing damn well what the priest was going to ask. “You could say I was curious. I heard Tokiomi’s aprrentice got chosen for the Holy Grail War, yet I can’t feel a drop of desire from you.” He got up from his seat, circling Kirei like a shark, before leaning on the wall with a grin on his face. “So, what is this selfless wish I can’t even feel that you have, Kirei Kotomine?”

“I...” Kirei hesitated. Part of him wanted to further question the man, but he felt that it would be a bad idea. Maybe if they had a private conversation, but there was the chance that Archer could relay all this to Tokiomi. So, in order to fool his mentor(wait, why would he?) Kirei went with the truth. “I do not have one. I have no ideals or desires, an as such, I cannot comprehend why I was chosen for the battlefield...”

“No wishes or ideals?” Archer scoffed. “Why not just wish for pleasure?”

Anger rose inside the man with hollow eyes. With a frown on his face that his eyes did not agree with, he spoke out, “Absurd. Pleasure is a blasphemy, an affront to The Lord. You would ask me, a scholar of God to ask for something so heinous and sinful?”

“Blasphemy? Heinous and sinful?” Assassin looked at him with a questioning look, almost as if trying to figure out the man who had summoned him. His narrowing eyes said he did not enjoy the idea he was forming of his Master. With a dangerous tone, he asked, “Why would you even associate pleasure with sin?”

Kirei chocked, trying to defend himself, trying to explain the whys and hows to his ‘philosophy’. Yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t utter a word. Because he knew just why he did so. Why plesure eluded him. Or why he eluded it.

“Well, it is true that a few idiots drive pleasure from sinful acts.” Ladre shrugged, his relaxed demeanor not faltering even a bit. “But there’s also people that derive pleasure from good deeds. Take King Gilgamesh, for example.”

Literally everyone, including Gilgamesh, gave the man an incredulous look for that one. He just chuckled at it. “For all his bluster and big words, he’s still a King. The progress of his nation, the prosperity of his people, it would bring him pleasure. Uruk lived it’s greatest golden age during his times. And because such things were due to his actions, even if it was later in life after-” Archer gave him a dangerous look- “you-know-what, his pride over his subjects would still turn to pleasure. A good kind, considering he would feel it due to his nation’s flourishment. Something we can all agree is good.”

“But such pleasure would still come from pride. One of the Seven Greatest Sins of humanity.” Kirei pointed out, sitting on the chair that was recently unoccupied. “As such, it still sinful.”

Ladre simply tutted. “Kirei, Kirei. Sin isn’t a bad thing. And not having it isn’t a good thing either.” Approaching slowly, the man stood behind Kirei’s chair, his hands settling on the priest’s shoulders when he tried to rise and pushing down. “Just look at you. The man who never sinned. Lost, without any idea of what to do with his life. Not a hint of desire. Other than...” His head lowered, his mouth whispering in Kirei’s ear, “Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Once more, the occupants fell silent. Two were grinning, one was contemplating the obvious things he had somehow missed, and the last sat tense on his chair, griping the armrests so tightly they could all hear the way the wood creaked and splintered.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Ladre chuckled, slapping Kirei’s shoulders. Taking out a glass of wine from God knows where, he sipped it before explaining, “Tokiomi’s orders for you in this Grail War are obvious. With Assassin, you would learn the strategies and skills of the other Masters. So do yourself a favor and find out their reasons for fighting in the war. Maybe that can help you realize just why the Grail chose someone with presumably no need for it to fight in the war. Do so and tell me those later.”

“It would do me a great favor if I were to hear such reports as well.” Archer cut in.

Assassin didn’t respond. He simply left the room, entering his Spirit Form. Though not without shooting one last look towards his Master. One that seemed to agree with the requests.

“That is... feasible.” Kirei looked between the two blondes that grinned expectantly at him. “But why do you two want to know so badly? What is it that interests you so badly?”

“Humans are joy to observe.” Archer said, taking a sip from his glass. “At least one or two must be interesting. If only when compared to Tokiomi.”

“Because you’re boring and lost. And as a Man of The Father, it’s my purpose to lead the lamb... astray” The answer shocked the two men, Gilgamesh even looking affronted when hearing it. The King of Heroes had no chance to question him, as the man seemed to teleport to the door, looking back with a grin. “I expect good things, little lost lamb.”

And with that, the man dissapeared.

“Hmm.” Gilgamesh stroked his chin as he looked at the spot the man once occupied, turning to particles of golden dust himself. The last of his voice was an unintentional mutter, “Interesting. I have never seen that move before.”

And then, Kirei Kotomine was left alone in his office.

Laying back on his seat, his eyes closed as he ruminated over the conversation. He couldn’t stop himself from muterrin, “My wish for the Grail... It certainly cannot be pleasure.” A part of him squirmed painfully, before his eyes opened again as he stared into nothingness. “But maybe... by learning from them... could I begin to understand myself?”

The walls had no answers for him.

In the dark night of Fuyuki City, a now nearly empty coffe diner was one of the few establishments with lights on. Inside were only two people, a bored waitress at the counter with her head in a linguistics book, and a shady customer she kept an eye in case he tried for a roberry.

Sitting at the corner with his hood drawn up to hide his disfigured face, Kariya could safely say he was extremely nervous.

His last encounter with someone who was obviously some big-shot magus had severy rattled him. No one could really blame him for it. Maybe Tokiomi or Zouken would, but those bastards could die for all he cared. They hadn’t felt what he did.

That pressure on his body, threatening to crush his entire being. He would have believed it was magecraft of some sorts but those usually came with an incantation or something, right? The guy had just opened his eyes a little and he and Berserker hadn’t been able to move a muscle, too busy trying not to pass out. Berserker had even said she had only once felt a feeling like that, and that was when she had faced King Arthur(who turns out was woman, history was weird), and that hadn’t made him feel much better. Thinking that he was standing in the presence of someone with the aura of the legendary King of Knights made his stomach churn.

But the weird part came after the pressure had faded. The man took away his sword, hiding it in his raincoat, before taking Kariya’s hand and shaking it, talking about how he should come to this café and await for a ‘magus-hating compatriot’ to show up.

Apparently, he would see them pretty easily.

“I still think this is a terrible idea. We should have at least gotten some information on why we would even want to come here.” Berserker’s voice rang out in his head. She had been agressively against the ever since the man had essentially disappeared right before their eyes. And to be fair to her, it could have very obviously been a trap. It is essentially suicide to do as that weird guy wanted. “If you agree that this is a bad move, why are we still... Don’t answer that. I’ll try to undestand on my own.”

He winced, even more so when a part of him told him to get up and move away. But he forced himself to stay seated and keep quiet. He refused to respond to his Servant’s (reasonable) ranting, taking her angry words in stride. After all, he couldn’t just up and admit the reason he was taking this risk.

He was afraid.

For as much as Berserker may have held her own against Tokiomi’s Servant, no one would disagree if someone said that the Master of Caster had been the one to best the golden prick. He still believed that beating Archer was possible with his Servant, but going on to beat the strongest of the Knights of The Round Table and King Arthur was too much for him.

There was no way for his paltry mana to sustain Berserker throughout all that. He would die if he tried.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t die without saving Sakura.

But if there was a way of skipping this whole Holy Grail War nonsense... a way to save Sakura without risk...

Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts or explain himself to his Servant, the bell above the door tinkled. Both his and the waitress’ eyes moved to the newly-arrived customer, the latter widening as a wad of cash was thrown directly at her. She looked to the figure who threw it, who simply motioned for her to be silent. Being too smart for her part-time job, she wisely chose to take her book and study at the back.

Kariya gulped at the obvious show of power, and his anxiety tripled when he realized that he was effectively alone with the accomplice of someone he already thought was trying to put him in a trap. And to be fair the woman’s look didn’t help his fears in anyway. If anything, they surpassed human comprehension.

She, for it was clearly a woman, used a pure-black, open raincoat with numerous square pockets spread all over and arranged in a tatical combatant style. Under it, he could see guns inside leather holsters, the handles pointing to her front, clearly for easy access. Below, a utility belt with even more pockets and a pair of sheathed combat knifes tightly clinged to her slim waist.

Her hair was as white as snow, her face, from the nose below, was covered by a black mask with an airfilter on the side, her eyes hidden by round glasses with thin lenses of gray. It did nothing to hide her piercing glare, that soon landed on him.

He straightened his back as well as he could when the woman approached, her hands inside her jacket’s hand pockets and ready to whip out a gun and shoot him in the head. He was sweating bullets, his only functioning eye wide as could be and locked directly at the form of the grim-reaper-looking mercenary that had probably been hired to kill him. Maybe I should have listened to Berserker.

To his utter surprise, the woman simply threw herself at the seat opposite him. And the word ‘threw’ was accurate; she just jumped into the seat, layed down on it and instantly shut her eyes. He sat there with a hanging jaw as his brain did it’s best to reboot after what could charitably be described as a brain hemorrhage. After a good while, he tried leaning over the table to speak with the woman, but he sailed back to his seat when she jumped up and sat prim and proper in her own. Except for the death glare she sent his way.

He decided that, for as much as it confused him, he shouldn’t ever mention the last three minutes again.

She looked him up and down, almost as if analysing him, before her eyes shot towards his face. He gulped, but was taken by surprise when she asked, “Kariya Matou, I imagine? The poor sod the Doctor found on the street?”

Kariya felt a small stab at the words, his head dropping even as he groaned a weak, “Yes... I am.”

“Hm. The Master of Velvet of Caerbannog and grandson of Makiri Zolgen.” She completely ignored the shock he showed in his face, the fear and confusion in his eyes clear. How did that guy figure out Berserker’s identity so easily?! “I take it, then, that the Doctor has already given you a general rundown of our deal’s objective.”

Deal? Guess I should have expected one. He took the information and made to think on it later. Focusing on the now, he shook his head. “He didn’t mention anything about a deal, and the only thing he said about an objective was a vague mention of getting rid of ‘the worm’s father’ and that’s that.”

A vein popped in the woman’s forehead. She sighed heavily, grumbling under her breath about how that useless idiot kept leaving the work for her. Raising her head, she looked down her nose at him, her voice taking a lecturing tone. “Alright, listen closely because I’ll only explain this once. I don’t like talking too much.”

“Our objective is the death of Makiri Zolgen. Or as you know him, Matou Zolken. Such is a difficult task, however, as you know. For as imperfect as it is, that worm did create a form of immortality. Putting a bullet through his head isn’t going to be enough to kill him. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” He pointed to himself in surprise. Shaking his head, he said, “Look, I may be related to that bastard but I wasn’t trained by him. If you think I’m some super-mage that knows all his secrets then-”

“We’re well aware how inco- untrained you are in the way of magecraft, and have taken it into account. The Doctor has already made various theories on how to kill Zolken, and you are the key to two of the best paths he managed to find. In other words,” She put her hands on the table, the two closed into a single tight fist, “We need you to work with us. The decision is up to you.”

Kariya’s eyes turned down, staring at the white table as he contemplated the offer. A chance to kill Zouken? Not just one but two? All he had to do was work with people who one was armed to the teeth and the other looked like a run-away Servant? Lady luck must have been laughing with him... if any of this was true.

He didn’t have the best of opinions when it came to magi. Backstabbers, imoral monsters, general grade-A assholes, he saw magi as nothing more than trash. Some of them would say it was jealousy because he wasn’t as good as them. But it was because he had seen the worst of them. Monsters in human form that would trample on their descendents for their own selfishness. Bastards that would abandon their children without a second thought. That would take other’s... futures...

He didn’t have any reason to trust them. He shouldn’t get involved in this. With them. They just wanted everything for themselves. It was the same with these people. They could say they wanted to help him for all eternity but he knew there was something they wanted with Zolken’s death.

Magi were never altruistic.

But just as he made to get up and leave the woman alone, a voice rang in his head, “Master, wait.”

“Berserker?”

“While I agree that magi are bastards, this is entirely to our advantage. Even if they want to use us for something, I detect no lie when she claims their intent is the death of that creature from back on the pit. However, we must still be careful with this.” He nodded quietly, his eyes going back to the silent woman before him whom was still waiting for his answer. “Ask her a few questions. We need to know how they intend to get rid of your... whatever he is.”

He released a breath, his anger and fear abating as his Servant came up with the rather obvious decision. He should have been able to come up with this himself but even he would admit his impatience is a big problem of his. Turning away from his thoughts, he asked the armed woman, “If I’m going to agree to this, then I need to know what your plan is. Every detail about it.”

“Good. I take it from your sudden silence that this questioning is your Servant’s doing. It’s good to see that despite being a Berserker, she still has a sharp mind.” He felt some confusion at her words. Almost as if she had expected no less from Berserker. “As I said before, there are two leading theories in order to deal with Zolken. One where you will be working with us and nothing else, and another that, while much easier to do, will have us relying on outside factors and your capacity of forming an alliance with a specific Master.”

“What do I have to do for the first one?”

“Simply give us samples of Crest Worms. The Doctor is well-travelled and unreasonably experienced with magic. We will be working on ways of developing a way of destroying Crest Worms without dealing harm to human bodies.” She waved her hand towards him, dismissingly saying, “We are, after all, aware of your situation. Such could take time, however.”

He nodded, knowing that any magus worth their warcrimes would make research on their targets before going in. But he was hesitant to go with that. If it was just him, he might have agreed if it ended with Zolken dead, but if they tried it with Sakura and something went wrong?

Aoi and Rin would never forgive him. And he wouldn’t forgive himself either.

“What about the other one? What Master would I need to work with?” Kariya asked, not just because of his want to avoid the first plan but also genuine curiosity. What Master could there be that could so easily kill Zolken?

“This one is... complicated.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on a open palm and cringing. “From the Doctor’s tellings of the man, getting him to work with us would be exceedingly easy, it’s just that the proccess of killing Zolken itself would be more complex.”

Kariya stared at her with a flat glare, his lips turning down in annoyance. Grumbling, he let out, “You said it would be easier.”

“Easier in the sense of implementing it, but reaching the final part would be harder, primarily because... of your Servant.”

Kariya leaned away from the table, his eyebrow rising, his surprise and confusion clear to see. “My Servant? What does Berserker have to do wit-”

“Sir Jaune.”  Berserker interrupted him. “She’s talking about us requesting aid from Sir Jaune.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s bad.

That was not good.

Kariya silently sweated, getting even worse once he noticed that the woman could easily tell who he was thinking of and nodding in comfirmation. Kariya didn’t really know the man, but he imagined Jaune was a good person. Going out of his way and endangering himself during a Holy Grail War just to help people during the night. And one does not simply become known as the ‘Knight of Compassion’ without being a generally upstanding and kind guy.

Kindness that would fly out the window the moment he found out Velvet had betrayed Camelot and led King Arthur to her death.

Violent attempted homicide would be a mild reaction, he imagined.

He thought of throwing that idea out the window, for Berserker’s preservation more than anything, before the Servant materialized beside him. He jumped in his seat, his surprise stopping him from questioning her. But she had enough questions on her own.

“How would Sir Jaune aid us here? While I doubt the Knight of Compassion of all people would refuse to aid my Master and his niece in getting out this terrible situation, I refuse to approach him without a clear plan and it’s means.”

“That... will be difficult.” She raised her hands placatingly, stopping Berserker from rushing her. “I’m not trying to keep anything from the two of you; I simply don’t understanding how exactly he’s supposed to do that either. The Doctor said something about destroying his soul directly but when I asked he just answered with...” She furrowed her brow, annoyed, as she tried her best to remember the exact words the man had spoken. 

“With what?” Berserker pressed.

"'When that man is pushed to the brink, he will find the name of his sword. And with that, no evil will survive the bite of his soul.’ That’s all the dumb bastard said.”

“The true name of his sword? Could it be...” Berserker leaned back, mulling over the words for a moment, her eyes lowering as she pondered. Nodding her head, she turned to Kariya, speaking to him through their mental link. “Master. While I have my preservations, I think I understand where she’s getting at. I don’t say we trust her, but we can put our faith in... Sir Jaune. To do the right thing, that man would die with a smile on his face.”

Not exactly something to aspire to, but if it meant the man would help them he was willing to go through the risk.

Turning back to the woman in front of him, he took as deep a breath as he could before the worms started acting up, and looked her directly in the eye. With a determined gaze, Kariya Matou nodded.“I’ll work with you.”

The woman nodded. “Good.” She rose from her seat, ready to leave, before passing over a small box to him. Weirdly enough, it was one of those boxes where you would keep a wedding ring. He gave her a weird look before she explained. “That’s a gift the Doctor made so you could fight better during the War. It won’t heal your body, but it will give the worms something else to feast on and a source of energy for your Servant.”

He whistled in awe, genuinely impressed with just how far this guy was willing to go just to kill Zolken. He took the box in hand, opening it in a moment. Inside was a singular, gold ring with a jewel of dark, blood-like red. It was perfectly round, not a single bump out of place. It gave him a weird feeling, making him feel queasy and nauseous, like whatever he was looking into was a curse in and of itself. He swallowed a lump before picking it out of the box.

He held it away from him, grimacing as he asked, “And what exactly is this ‘gift’?”

She scoffed. “What you hold in your hands is an amplifier of energy. It’s a state secret of a war-torn, far-away country, and the fact we’re giving it to you is enough to put you on a thousand watchlists, and a few kill-on-sight ones.”

Walking away from the suddenly terrified dead man, she told him, “In the country of Amestris, it is known as ‘The Philosopher’s Stone.’”

Chapter Text

“You can’t make me do this!”

Jaune blinked in stupor, noticing that he was standing still in a dark room that he had never seen before. It seemed like some kind of workshop, with numerous wooden benches draped with expensive fabrics, trinkets and gadgets atop some and Mystic Codes on the others. But his attention was soon taken by the one who shouted again.

“I have already sacrificed so much! And now you would demand of me something so demeaning!?”

In front of him was a budding young woman, no older than fifteen, dressed in a white dress adorned with gold, silver jewels hanging off her neck and ears. Light blonde hair fell down her back, like a golden cascade, ending on her lower back. Green eyes that seemed to shine with inteligence and cunning, beautiful to anyone who looked at them.

But at this moment, twisted with fury.

“I shall not accept this Uther!”

Uther? Wasn’t that Arthur’s biological father? Then that meant... He was seeing one of Morgan’s memories.

“The deal has already been made, Morgan. You will accept it. Tis your duty as daughter.”

Turning away from the young Morgan, he tried to find Uther, to see what the man looked like. He stepped back when, instead of  finding a man, he saw a mass of inky shadows in a form that resembled a man covered by a long cloak.

What in Oum’s name is that? Uther can’t have looked like this in life. Is this memory... corrupted or something?

“Duty?” Young Morgan scoffed, her sneer deepening as she glared at the shadow as hard as she could. Her teeth grit and showing in an angry snarl, she growled at the shadow in front of her. “Do not attempt to jest with me, Uther. My duty is to the British Isles, to govern them as their rightful Queen!”

Uther’s shadow stayed silent at the young woman’s words, frustration seeping from it’s form. It’s shoulders rose and fell dramatically, taking deep breaths to calm itself. After some time, it simply turned away. “We are done in this matter. You shall be engaged to King Lot and will sire his heir. That is final.”

“I already told y-”

He slapped her.

It turned around so fast as to look like a blur. He backhanded her, her neck almost snapping as she stumbled from the blow. She put a hand on the smarting cheek, her eyes glaring at the shadow, tears gathering in her eyes.

Shock consumed Jaune as he stared at the scene. Why had this happened? How was Aurthur’s father such a bastasrd ?  Righteous fury soon rose in him, his body dashing forwards before he could think, wanting to punch the asshole in front of him even if it was a shadow.

But he never made it. The room changed, the shadow dissapeared, and now he stood in front of a bed where a tired and slightly older Morgan sat, holding something in her arms.

She looked exhausted, sweat dripping from her body and her uhair was a n  unkept mess, now sporting a few white streaks, descended over her like a veil. Jaune felt confused as he noticed that, even then, he could sense some... joy coming off of her.

“How strange...” She muttered, one of her arms approaching the whing in her arms, the other holding it gently from underneath. She clutched it close, pressed against her body and hidden by white sheets. It didn’t take long for Jaune to realize what it was.

Not after she unwove the fabric and revealed a small, chubby face sleeping gently in her arms. She smiled as the baby opened hi s blue eyes and stared at her, letting out a happy giggle after seeing his mother, whom embraced him as tightly and gently as she could.

She was smiling as well, a small turn to her lips and lidded eyes that lovingly stared at the boy in her arms.

“I thought I would hate you, for being blood of that old scoundrel. And yet...” The smile widened, her cheeks puffing up as she layed a small kiss on the baby’s nose, the little child giggling as he tried to hug his mother’s face. She muttered under her breath, “I’m so happy to see you ,   m y little Gawain.”

“You shall be a prince one day. Heir to all the lands of Britain.” She raised the baby Gawain up in the air, the light of the sun beaming down on his form as his eyes stared back at her. “I know you will. It is your right, as the eldest... it is your right...”

The world changed again, day turned to night and the closed room became an open meadow. He blinked in confusion, feeling a sense of familiarity in this place yet he couldn’t tell why.

Looking around, he tried to find Morgan, but no matter where he looked, there was no sight of her. What he did see was a familiar church, one he saw in passing but felt that had a much greater meaning. Rushing to it, he entered the back-grounds, finally finding Morgan... kneeling in front of a sword stuck on a stone.

“Damn them! Damn them! Damn them, Merlin and Uther both!” She angrily hissed, her voice dripping with venom and hate, her fist punching the ground under her and disturbing the small pudle of blood formed from her bleeding palm. “Ater everyhing I sacrificed, evrything I put up with, they rob me like this!?”

“Merlin.” She spat out the name with as much anger as she could, snarling as if the mere mention of the wizard was enough to drive her up a wall. Her eyes, now a cold blue, glared down at the puddle beneath her, and Jaune imagined she wished, at that moment, that the blood was from Merlin’s corpse.  “You betrayed me, spat on all my efforts, all for the sake of some useless child...”

“And you.” She lifted her head, her watery eyes glaring at Caliburn. “Why do you prefer that child over me? W h y can’t I lift you!? I am this land’s true queen! SO WHY!?”

Anger gave way to sorrow, sobs and tears escaping her as she asked of the sword in the stone, “Why didn’t you choose me? Why won’t you accept me?”

“Why aren’t I... good enough?”

And with a chocked sob, the vision of the past abruptly ended.

Far away from the populated area of Fuyuki City, deep within the forests close to Mt. Enzou, a raging battle of wills was occurring.

Gritting her teeth, Servant Pretender, the Fragment of Yang Xiao-Long, planted her feet firmly in the ground and leaned forwards, fighting back against the winds that threatened to blow her sky high.

Her hair whiped across her face, sweat poured out of her whole body, her eyes were barely able to stay open, and she blood poured from her nose and gathered beneath her into a small puddle that rippled with the wind. But, she had to persevere through it all, she had to stop this from growing out of control.

And in front of her, a tear in the world had formed.

After their confrontation with Assassin and the guy she thought was his Master, the sword had exploded into a myriad of elements, with the usual Chaos Enchantment showing up but in ways that Jaune just wouldn’t allow, singing the skies and land with pure intent of bringing Disorder. The Serana in her could understand, due to the Enchantment’s connection to Padomay, the primordial being responsible for change and desruction of Creation. It wanted to remake the world, leave it barren for someone else to reshape so it could be undone once more.

But she couldn’t let it run free when it was being forcefully mingled with Argent Energy.

After taking the sword as far away from the city as she could with Harribel’s Sonido, she immediately threw it out of her hands and called upon the one being that she knew could handle a situation this fucked.

“Focus.” It ordered from the skies above, ignoring the way she couldn’t damn well focus on what was essentially an end-of-the-world catastrophe happening right in front of her and only she was in position to stop it! “The pressure you feel does not matter. All that matters is containing the Beast. So focus.”

Narrowing her eyes, she forced her self to look upon nothing but the chaotic sword in front of her. To ignore the pain driving her to the ground. To push out the voice that demanded that she let it free. Through strained muscles and a fatigued mind, she guided her magical energy, both Aura and Mana, and forced it to materialize a series of white gates around the weapon.

“Ō Ye of Little Faith. Wanderer of The Darkness. May The Guardian End Thy Sorrows.”

From the gates, white chains sprouted and stabbed the black and purple flames that tried to escape and turn the World to ash. The moment they made contact, the chains began darkening, foul orange lines spreading on them as the demonic energy attempted to  weaken the cage forming around it.

“May Your Cries Be Choked By The Eternal Emptiness. And Your Thirst Be Locked Under A Thousand Locks.”

The darkness in the chains began to return to the flames, leaving behind nothing more than embers that simply danced in the air before being reunited with the fire that it escaped from.

“That Is The Decree Of He Who Stands As Humanity’s Paragon Of Virtue!”

As she spoke and the chains cleared, they began working their magic, stabbing deeper and deeper, dragging the corruptive force back into the sword’s Inner World, the mighty fire now reduced to a dim darkness that was brought down to it’s cage more and more until, with a last scream of anger, it sent a lance of pure darkness to stab at her throat.

“   ^{May Your Escape}   Aal Hin Filok Grind Funt   ^{Meet Failure} !”

With the The True Name spoken, the dark lance stopped na inch of her neck, both the flames that originated it and the chains that imprisoned them, dissapeared, taken inside the Inner World and remaking the cage that kept the Demonic Energy contained.

Falling to her knees, the Servant took deep, heaving breaths, trying to fill her lungs with as much air as she could. She knew she wouldn’t recover soon, using that Noble Phantasm was too much for her, especially considering it wasn’t her own. Her Mana was dangerously low, it’s recovery slow because of her lack of connection to the Holy Grail’s Magical Paths. She may have been summoned as a Servant but she was closer to a Rogue Servant with two Masters more than anything.

She reminded herself to send a quick mental message to Morgan about her success, getting one back that Jaune was still unconscious.

Great wings beat from above, it comind down and heavily landing in fron of her, the ground shaking beneath it’s armored form. A long serpentine head surveyed the quiet sword below before it nodded to her. “The Beast has been contained. You should rejoice in your success.” 

It helpfully suggested, his voice stern yet somehow also soft. He had always been like this with her, what with her Soul Fragment being the first to enter it’s world. Almost like a confused dad. “I am able to hear what goes through your mind, Child of Time. Do not confuse me with Akatosh. It is distasteful for both of us. For he is only a God, and I am a King.”

“Only a God, it says, as if it doesn’t owe it’s entire existence to Akatosh.” She shot back with an annoyed expression, more because she wanted someone to talk with to stave off the fatigue. Everyone else in her Spirit Origin was just as exhausted as her. Turning back to him, she continued, “Remember, you were formed with the Mirmulniir’s bones, you kind of have to admit you were created because of Dragon Dad.”

“That matters little, Child of Time. And don’t say Dragon Dad.” It shook it’s long head in distaste, a frown marring it’s features. “And stop attempting to distract yourself with perusing my existance. For as much as this night may have brought us all much distress, one good thing has come to you.”

“AND WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE GOOD ABOUT THIS SHIT!?” She angrily yelled, springing up from the ground, her patience finally snapping as her frustration with this Oblivion-damned shitty night being the worst thing to experience in a long time! “I don’t think you noticed but we almost had to deal with another demonic invasion without the Doom Slayer to pull our ass out of the fire this time!”

“Hmph. The fact you still do not see it is both perplexing and infuriating. Or perhaps you haven’t noticed a particularity of my presence?”

“Your presence...?” She muttured, her face pinched as she stared at the bastard with anger in her eyes. But that anger dissapeared when she realized she could see it. “You’re here... You can materialize now...”

“Yes. It would seem we are closer to the full release than what should be possible. Soon, he will hear my voice, and my true self shall be manifest in this world.”

“And with that power...” She breathed out, a smile spreading on her face, her teeth showing like that of a shark. “The Holy Grail will be ours.”

She nodded to the great beast in front of her, slapping a fist against her chest. “For our future, My King.”

The Dovah nodded it’s head in turn. “For our Utopia.”

He woke to the rhythmic sound of tapping heels.

And he immediately wished he hadn’t.

His body was aching. All over. Every muscle complained, fatigue hitting him as if he had just finished one of Nora’s special workouts without Ren around to rein her in. And he wasn’t masochist enough to go through that again. Not that he could.

But worst of all was his head. He had never drank alcohol before, but right now, he imagined he knew what a hangover headache was, considering the way his head was throbbing, drawing a wince from him, along with a hiss of pain.

As soon as he did, he heard the sound of a chair loudly scraping on the floor as someone got off their seat. He opened his eyes, little more than slits that allowed for him to see that it was Morgan approaching him with a worried look on her face. She grasped onto his arm tightly, almost too tightly, before bending over and swiping a bit of hair away from his face. Her voice dripped with concern as she asked, “Are you okay?”

He blinked for a second, taking in her white hair and how different her face was from when she had tried to pull Caliburn. He stopped when he noticed her looking more and more worried the longer he looked. Ah, she might be thinking I lost my memory.

He decided to answer her, Putting a hand on his head, he gave her an apologetic smile and said, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry. Just... had a weird dream, it’s all.”

“Ah. I see...” She looked away uncomfortably, her body tensing as her face grimaced, probably having realized what he saw. She ignored it, instead asking, “How are you feeling? Can you sit up?”

He tried to lift up on the bed, gritting his teeth as his sore arms pushed his pained torso up. He groaned, not from pain but just from how heavy his body felt, but Morgan still helped him up. Once he felt he was in a proper position, he responded, “Like I’ve just been ran over by a Goliath.”

Morgan hummed lowly as she leaned back, her eyes roving over his form before they settled back onto his own. She squeezed his arm, and he felt his body begin to sooth under her delightful magecraft, the pains not going away, but his brain not feeling them quite so intensely. He gave her a grateful look for it, smiling warmly at the woman who awkwardly returned it.

Soon, his gaze wandered around the room they were in. Patterned walls greeted him, large dark red triangles with gold lines inside forming the shapes of squares, with the ceiling the same ,The oval lamp above him was illuminating the entire room, searingly bright to the point it hurt to glance at. There was a single, king-sized white bed, where he had been sleeping, and a desk of darkwood with a few boxes on top. There was even a luxurious velvet couch to one of the walls.

He blinked a few times, both because of surprise and to wake himself up, but he still had the presence of mind to ask Morgan where they were.

“A hotel that Raiga recommended once, the one... I rejected.” He made a little sound of recognition, remembering that Morgan had... ‘complications’ with the place. In her own words; Fours stars was too cheap for a queen. “I thought of taking you to a hospital but it would be too difficult to hide my magecraft in so crowded a place.”

“Ah. Makes sense. It would be hard to ignore a light show.” Morgan’s eyebrow twitched when he said that, probably taking slight at her magecraft being called a ‘light show.’ Still, she nodded in agreement.

He blinked as he noted the remarkable absence of a blonde girl in the room. Yang never did like how willing he was to throw himself into whatever danger was in front of him. And considering she was like an amalgamation of all his friends(and that was a nightmare and a half), all of whom had the exact same problem with his tendencies, he was surprised that she wasn’t here to hit him in the head for being an idiot. Even if he didn’t really know what happened.

Morgan seemed to pick up on this, sighing as she pulled a chair and sat on it, crossing her legs as she did. “After the whole fiasco with your sword going out of control and what Xiao-Long told me was Argent Energy trying to flee the confines of your sword-” She elected to ignore the way he chocked when she revealed that part- “We separated in order to deal with both problems.”

“Separated?” He repeated with an alarmed look. That... That was horrible idea! Yang was essentially a spirit inside his sword, so she would be in more risk of being infected with demonic energy(if that’s how it even works)!

Cursing, he made to get out of bed and rush out, intent on finding and helping Yang. He knew her pride as a Nord wouldn’t appreciate it, but he wasn’t going to step aside and let her be corrupted or consumed or even touched by Argent Energy! He threw out the sheets from his body and vaulted off the bed.

But the moment his feet touched the ground he immediately slipped. No, it was better to say that his whole body buckled under it’s own weight. With a dumb look on his face, he fell down and slammed his face on the floor.

“OW!”

He yelled from the pain, flipping himself over and gripping his nose, his eyes clenched shut as he writhed on the floor. It wasn’t too painful, being bitten in half by Alduin and taking the full brunt of the radiation contaminating the river at Project Purity had made him pretty unreactive to pain. But it was that fact that made him more confused than hurt. When was the last time he whined about being hurt?

He took his hands away, ready to see Morgan looking at him unimpressedly, before pausing as he noticed blood staining his palms. His eyes widened, his fingers touching his nose and coming back wet, making it apperent he was dripping blood. He froze, not because of panic, but out of surprise. How did he get hurt from something so small?

“I take it you’ve noticed the situation now.” His eyes darted to Morgan when she spoke, the woman kneeling beside him and offering him a hand to help him up. Carefully shifting his hips, he sat on the mattress again, looking at her in both shame and gratefulness, a small smile on his face that she briefly returned before going back to her serious demeanor. “Right now, your Aura is extremely low, barely enough to guard you. Since they are the ones more knowledgeable about jailing the demonic energy, and the sword had to be taken alway from you, we decided it was best to separate and deal with both problems at once. And before you jump out of bed again, Pretender got in contact and told me she was successful in jailing the demonic energy inside your sword once more. She is safe.”

“Ah.” Jaune wouldn’t say he relaxed, he was very much still panicking about all this, but his shoulders untensed. Once his Aura was back in shape he could deal with the Argent Energy, but letting Yang(or Pretender, it was hard to refer to her) get hurt wasn’t something he would forgive himself for letting happen. He had already made enough mistakes in his life and the Grail War was a way to undo his greatest idiocy.

His ears perked up when he caught her quiet murmurring, “Not only that but your Spirit Origin was damaged too...”

Jaune tilted his head, blinking as he tried to understand what that meant. He never heard about a ‘Spirit Origin’ or whatever it was that she said. She seemed to pick up on it, but gnawed on her lip instead of explaining.

He tensed a little, worried why she wouldn’t tell him, but felt that she must have had her reasons. And if she tried to pretend she never said anything he could change that with a...

Shaking his head and focusing, he turned to Morgan and asked, “How long have I been out? Two hours?”

“It’s somewhen around noon as of now, so likely a little less than thirteen hours.” The words made him freeze. Another weird thing; that was the second longest time he was knocked out for after he first jumped dimensions. This whole thing was becoming worrisome. “Two of them were spent in a ritual to contain the energy flowing through you, so you have been in bed for eleven hours and a bit.”

“In other matters, Raiga sent a report on individuals of interest that came to Fuyuki recently, and one of them that I am certain is responsible for the bombing attack of last night.” Morgan called his attention, rising from the bed and stepping towards the bedside desk. Opening the drawer, her hand delved inside the velvet box and brought out a yellow-paper envelope, sealed with what he recognized as the Fujimura Group’s family sign. She extended it to him, showing the printed out name of the file on it’s front, in black bold letters.

Kiritsugu Emiya.

He stared down at the envelope, a feeling of foreboding creeping up his spine as he leaned back on the bed and looked to the ceiling. In his mind, he thought that the most important thing right now would be to study what Raiga had found on this guy, likely one of the Masters for the Grail War. It was unlikely Raiga had found out what the man was doing in Fuyuki, or that he was a mage. But at the same time...

He was so freaking tired.

Just one day, one evening, to rest. To do anything else...

Like a light flickering on, he came up with an idea to deal with his problem, a smile spreading on his face. Hopping out of the bed(being careful to balance himself with his dwindled reserve of energy), he turned to Morgan, the woman looking at him with a curious look. Putting his hands on his hips, he asked, “Hey. Wanna go out?”

The moonlight shone through the dark church’s windows, lighting up the room in a blue-ish hue and, just as it was designed when built, falling onto a statue of The Holy Virgin Mother sat atop a pedestal in the center of the room.

Before it stood Risei Kotomine, Overseer of The Fourth Holy Grail War. His back was straight and his shoulders firm, his hair slicked back and going down his neck. His eyes were closed as usual, the man preferring to keep them closed for his own comfort. Despite this, he somehow never had trouble knowing what was in front of him.

“The Holy Grail War now faces an unprecendented crisis never once imagined.” The elder spoke in a clear voice, loud enough to be heard anywhere in the church. However, any who saw him do so would worry the man was putting on the years, for there was no person on the room beside him. Even his soon was absent.

Yet the man was not alone.

A small dark bat, an owl seemingly made of crystal, a hawk and a skittish mouse all eerily stared directly at him. The creatures not blinking or moving once. Tokiomi had sent one of his familiars to keep up their illusion. There was, as well, an insectoid mostrosity casualy sitting on one of the church’s benches, obviously the work of the Matou Master. The other familiars gave it a wide berth, not wanting to be close to the abomination.

Risei was glad that Caster hadn’t sent a familiar of her own, otherwise she would have much time to prepare for the eventual assault on her team.

“Through rigorous investigation, I was able to comfirm that the Caster and her Master, as of now denominated Shielder, are responsible for the serial kidnappings and murders that have recently terrorized Fuyuki.” The man continued speaking to the creatures, secure in the fact the Masters would receive the information. “He has used this charade of vigilante action to hide his trail while kidnapping and killing various children, many of them young girls.”

“Due to this transgression, as well as his refusal to hide his magecraft from public view, he and his two Servants have been henceforth marked as enemies to all of you and the completion of the Holy Grail War. Until his death and that of his Servants have been confirmed, all conflict between other Masters is to be put on hold.” Rolling up the sleeve on his right arm, Risei showed the beings his bare arm, still thick with muscle after years of training his bajiquan. But what caught their attention was the presence of various red markings on the limb. “These are the unused Command Seals of Masters from the previous Holy Grail Wars. As I am aware of the risk of battling this team of powerful individuals, I have decided to reward whomever comes to me with proof of Caster’s demise, along with that of her Master and partner Servant, with a Command Seal per each fallen enemy.”

Rolling the sleeve back down, he folded his arms behind him and squared his shoulders, giving one final word, “Cooperation in this time is advised, for this group is not one that can be easily overcomed. Those who work together shall receive the same reward for their efforts. If there are any questions, now is the time to ask them.” A hint of humor broke through his stern demeanor, a smile adorning his face as he joked, “But I am afraid such is a privilege only those who speak with human tongues have.”

The church was filled with the sounds of animals running out of the Holy Ground, avoiding each other not to break the rules now imposed by the Overseer. Risei released a breath, rolling his shoulders to work out some soreness. He truly was putting on the years.

Turning away, Risei made his way to the basement to speak with Rokiomi, knowing that the man would be estatic with the idea of gaining three Command Seals. After all, it was simple common sense to have Archer finish the three off when the other Servants sufficiently tired out Casters team.

Lost in thought, he failed to notice the figure standing outside the upper windows, their eyes carefully memorizing every detail of the meeting. It wasn’t his fault, however.

Only those strong enough could perceive a Hollow. Even if she was human.

Frowning, the woman shot off woth a Sonido, refusing to acknowledge the armored man glaring at the female, his face hidden behind his black helmet.

“Uh-um... is this- th-the Mackenzie residence?”

Standing in front of the simple home built on one Miyama Town’s hills, a young delivery driver, who had just started his career, was having the most intimidating time of his life.

“Yes; that is the name of the owners.” Well at least the man sounded friendly enough, which did absolutely nothing to diminish the fact that he was a seven feet tall and built like a brickwall of tight muscle. The roman-esque costume made him think of a foreigner that came to some cosplaying convention or something like that. Though who he was meant to be he had no idea, he never heard of a roman emperor that was a giant. Maybe Caesar?

Noticing he was rambling in his own head out of nervousness, he decided to just get this over with as quickly as possible. Swallowing a lump in his throat as quietly as possible, the young man asked, “Right! So, um, who would be...” He glanced down to the box in his hands, the paper above reading, “Iskandar, King of Conquerors?”

“That would be me.” The giant cosplayer responded, his smile getting even larger somehow.

He was supposed to be Alexander The Great!? The man was short as hell! Where was the historical accuracy!?

“Ah! I see...” The man only laughed awkwardly on the outside, careful not to insult a client or else he would be kissing this job goodbye. Pointing down at the paper atop the box with one of his hands, the delivery man asked, almost pleading, “Then I-I’ll need you to sign here... on the receipt.”

The giant blinked, stupefied for a second, before brightening, “Ah, you need my signature? Very well.” Taking the paper, he was quick to write down his name and title before handing the crumpled paper back. Taking the box in hand and inching the door closer, he said with a smile on his face, “You have my gratitude.”

After having layed the box on the dining room’s table and opening it, Iskandar drew the white shirt down his large torso, the ‘Admirable Tactics’ written on the front stretching over his mucles. Luckily, even when he striked various poses and flexed his muscular body, the shirt held well, not tearing even a tiny bit. Rider laughed loudly, elation filling his heart. “To have the entire world mapped across my chest... What a treat!”

He stuck out his lip when he heard a body tumbling down the stairs on the other side of the door, a quick yelp coming from the victim. Turning back, Iskandar stared as Waver stumbled through the door, his face haggard and his eyes sunken from his bad sleep. Having to deal with dreams breaking up his sleep was problematic enough for the young mage, seeing a near endless army staring forwards and smiling proudly at the mere sight of their King.

Waver turned to look at his Servant, a question at the tip of his tongue, before it was quickly replaced by another. One of the more annoyed kind, courtesy of Rider wearing some... new clothes.

“What are you wearing?”

“My order just arrived.”

Waver jumped as he heard the response, angrily asking, “You went outside!?”

Laughing, the large man picked up the wooden box that brought his order, and proudly presented it to the student, a large smile gracing his face. “Tada! I tried out that ‘home-delivery’ thing. It is very useful!”

“I told you to not to leave the second floor!”

“With the residents out for the day and you busy with your familiar, who would answer the door?” Rider rethorically asked, before making his way to the front door. “In any case, I understood after seeing Lancer last night. By using modern clothing, there won’t be any issues with going outside in physical form.”

“Hey, wait!” Waver chased behind, embarrassedly yelling, “At least put some pants on!”

“Hm? Ah, right, those leggings everyone in this era wears.” Rider lightly punched his own temple, leaving his head resting against his fist. His eyes glanced back at his Master. “Do I really have to?”

“Of course you do!” Waver shot back, beofer crossing his arms and turning awya from the Servant, sniding, “And before you ask, I’m not going to the city just to buy you extra-large pants!”

“What!?” Rider yelled, shaking his fist at the mage. “Boy! Are you intending to oppose my authority!?”

“Authority and pants have nothing, zilch, nada, to do with each other!” The boy yelled, before going on a rant that left Rider feeling more and more like he was having another scolding from Aristotle. “Go beat an enemy Servant before thinking of going outside to sightsee! Then I’ll think about buying you pants or something!”

“I see. Very well.” The King nodded his head, accepting the boy words. He then leaned forward, his eyes staring directly at his Master’s own. “Then, you promise to buy me a pair of pants after I defeat an enemy Servant? Then, I have your word that you will hold up your end of our bargain?”

Waver, stunned, stared at the serious fire in the Servant’s eyes. Deflating, the boy let his arms hang as he tiredly asked “You really wanna go outside that badly?”

“The King of Knights was doing the same.”  “As another King, I cannot allow myself to fall behind. And I like this shirt’s style. It is a fitting vestiment for the King of Conquerors!”

Before Waver could ask what in the Root’s name they were doing when they had the cnahce to hunt Caster’s team down, someone began knocking on the entrance door, loudly saying, “Delivery!”

Feeling his irritation rising, Waver briskly walked over to the door, missing the way Rider’s eyes sharpened as he stared at the entrance. Slamming the door open and almost ripping it off it’s hinges(not really, he was way too noodle-armed for that), Waver made to shout at the face of whoever was there. But he paused at the last second.

There was no one there. Waver blinked, stupefied, before he began shaking with restrained anger, a vein popping in his forehead as he stood there like an idiot. Good. He just fell for a prank.

Just as he made to close the door, he noticed a cardboard box, a little larger than the one Rider had had delivered to the Mackienzie but with no paper or any way to identify it’s sender. He picked it up, turning it over but there was no paper under it either. Sighing, he threw the box at Rider, who caught it dexterously. “Looks like the rest of your order arrived.”

Rider hummed as he stared at the package, a worried look on his face that made Waver nervous. The boy had no chance to voice his concerns, because Rider ripped open the box and took out it’s content, unfurling it with both hands holding it on the top.

A simple pair of pants unfurled down.

...

“Huh. Looks like someone decided to buy me some trousers.”

Waver’s eye twicthed.

“Well, it’s decided! Now that I have my pants, we shall go outside first.”  “Worry not boy, I will take this opportunity to find a Servant to defeat. Maybe Caster. Her team is bound to be strong. THough finding them in such a big city will be difficult...”

Something about Rider’s words made Waver snap back, an idea forming in his head. Running in and making his way to his room, the student yelled, “Wait here! If we’re going outside anyway, I’ll try to find Caster’s base.”

Iskandar watched his young Master’s back retreat to the second floor, a smile on his face as pride surged within him for the boy’s proactiveness, before being buried under worry as he stared at the cloth in his hands.

There was no mana or magecraft mechanisms on it, he could tell due to his nature as a Servant. But he also knew that the combo he bought didn’t come with a pair of pants.

Especially not ones with the lettering ‘V.L’ stiched in gold.

His steps echoing inside the long corridor, the afternoon sun’s rays coming through the windows, Kiritsugu Emiya calmly walked with a box in his hands and a map folded under his arm. He stopped for a moment, looking outside the windows with a pensive look on his face. To imagine he would be done scouting the city so quickly... He would have to thank Lancer’s lion somehow. The beast had taken him across the roofs of Fuyuki, listening atently to his commands and helping him identify certain areas of interest for the War. Especially the leyline-heavy areas. It seemed that the beast’s snout was a powerful thing, capable of smelling even Mana. Though he refused to allow it to move as fast as it did back in the Einzbern Castle, he did not need his stomach complaining for hours again.

Turning back to the moment, he began walking once more, making way to one of the rooms of the Einzbern Mansion, one that had been turned from a living space to a momentary war room, where they could all convene to discuss the current state of the Holy Grail War and their next plans. Reaching it, and nodding to both Irisviel and Lancer, who were already in the room, the mercenary stepped inside and layed down his map on the table before putting down the box. They waited little time for Maiya to arrive, carrying her own items.

Looking over the map of Fuyuki City and the surrounding areas that unofficially belonged to the Tohsaka family, responsible for providing the land at the beginning of the Holy Grail Wars, Kiritsugu and Maiya layed down various photos and documents with extensive detail on the known Masters of the Holy Grail War, as well as locations of interest. The Tohsaka Estate where Tokiomi Tohsaka had hidden himself in, the Matou Mansion, and the Church Grounds all being on the front of certain clipboards. As well as a... certain restaurant.

“There is a powerful Bounded Field surrounding Mt. Enzou, with the Ryuudou Temple as it’s origin point.” Kiritsugu marked the location on the map with a sticker, denominating it’s particular trait. “It blocks passage for everything that isn’t a natural spirit. Due to this Serrvants can only enter the temple through the narrow entrance of the mountain path. Remember this when using Lancer.”

It would be tricky to deal with, but a wonderful advantage should they take it first.

“There are also three other areas where Fuyuki’s Mana leylines gather the most.” He picked up a red marker and circled three spots of interest, pointing each of them out for his wife and his Servant, both staring at the map intently, “The Tohsaka Mansion, The Fuyuki Church and the recently-built residential area east of the main city. That means there are four locations with the spiritual necessities to call forth the Grail.”

“Once the war enters the second stage and the number of Servants has decreased, we’ll need  to secure one of these places as our new base, right?” Irisviel repeated the information that her husband had given her months ago.

“Right. However, there are two last locales we’ll have to keep tabs on.” The words surprised Irisviel, but only for a bit. This war was always going to be a complicated affair, with bases and enemies running amok the entire battlefield. She saw him pick up another marker, yellow colored this time, and marked a spot in downtown Fuyuki, and another in Miyama Town.

Irisviel backed away when Lancer leaned in to look at it, trying to find out the reason behind the importance, but there was no gathering of leylines in the area, nothing that would normally call attention for the Grail War. Giving up on her mental querry, the Servant hummed as she lifted her head and looked at her Master’s eyes. She asked the man, “What are these places, Master?”

“These are...” The man sighed, not out of exhaustion or anything like that, but out of second-hand embarrassment. Irisviel blinked at this, something that she hadn’t really seen with Kiri before. Artoria, too, arched a brow at this, not expecting the man to react with shame of all things. Tapping one of the marks, the one in Miyama Town, Kiritsugu continued.

“This one is the headquartes for one of the Yakuza groups of Fuyuki’s crime world, one that has been increasing it’s activities recently. Maiya managed to find it after a day of investigating their recent history. After Caster’s Master took out a lot of their competition with his late night raids, they took over the lost territories, suspiciously quickly.”

“Yakuza? Do you mean those japanese criminal families?” Artoria asked, perplexed about the importance of a criminal group when none of the known Masters had any afilliation with such people. And she doubted any of them would stoop so low or have the resources to hire their services. Kayneth El-Melloi and Tokiomi Tohsaka were well established mages with access to their own wealths and Mystic Codes, Rider’s Master was far too young to involve himself with yakuza and the Kariya Matou was apparently cut off from his family’s fortune and couldn’t ask for aid. That only left...

She came back to the conversation just as her Master pointed to the lands that were taken by the clan. “The Fujimura Group is, or rather was, fairly laid back when it comes to criminal proceedings, only realy comiting small crimes but never anything that would spark some police intervention to take it down. Essentially, they were just there at the background and never really interfered with anything. Until recently, where they began expanding and integrating other groups into theirs, especially those who had been weakened after Caster’s Master raided their bases and led the police to their doorsteps.”

“Our main theory right now is that Caster’s Master either came from the Fujimura Group, or came into contact with them in preparation for the Holy Grail War, promising his service to take down their rivals if they aided him.” Kiritsugu rattled off the idea he came up with Maiya’s help and his own experience. For as strong as they may individually be, a Magus participating in the Holy Grail War would inevitably need a network of some kind to aid them. So focused on his wife, though, he didn’t notice Lancer tensing the further he went on. “While it’s not difficult to tell what he’s getting out of it, it seems he has taken even more in... compesation.”

Planting his finger on the other yellow marked spot in the map, Kiritsugu stated, “This is the place where Caster has most likely claimed as her Territory... It’s a restaurant.”

...

...

““Huh?””

The two women uttered in almost perfect unison. They stared at the man, confusion on Iri’s face and genuine bewilderment in Artoria’s, driving out her earlier mounting anger. The occupants of the room were silent for many minutes, even Maiya quietly palming her face and pushing down the headache she felt whenever she remembered about that little detail. Irisviel leaned over to pick up the documents that had their (scarce) information on Shielder, look at them with a pinched expression, before passing them over to Lancer. Artoria, meanwhile, reclined on her seat, palmed her face and groaned. “What the hell, Morgan?”

“As nonsensical as it is,” Kiritsugu choked out with his teeth grit and his eyes closed in embarrassment, snapping his fingers as he tried to bring back their attention to his next words, “This is still where Caster has set up her base. Taking into account how the Caster Class is strongest when they are at their Territory and the restaurant’s hours, the place is most likely filled to the brim with Bounded Fields and-”

“I do not believe this is Morgan’s Territory.”

The room fell into silence once more. Irisviel looked to her right, blinking at the King of Knights whom straightened her back as Kiritsugu raised his head to look at her directly. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Kiritsugu leaned back with an annoyed look on his face, and asked, “And you made that assumption based on what exactly?”

“Three reasons. The first one is rather simple.” Artoria leaned forward and tapped the map, her finger on the location of the restaurant. “The location is too obvious and far too open. There is a lot of foot traffic in the street leading to the establishment, leaving a perfect cover for enemies to come and go as they please. And due to it’s nature as a restaurant, she can’t put any Bounded Fields without risking the lives of her customers. While a Magus wouldn’t usually care, Morgan is vain and prideful; she wouldn’t risk the chance of losing any amount of profit and reputation on the unlikely case one of her clientele is a Magus uninvolved in the War.”

“Not only that, we would have already heard of something, some sort of accident or poisoning, if there was a Bounded Field in the place. Yet I see in these files that the restaurant has only received glowing praises and has no record of incidents of any kind. With all of this, and with her... impressive intelect,-” She admitted through snarling teeth- “I doubt that she would have the restaurant as the true location of her Territory. It is more likely that she has it somewhere more quiet,” Her finger moved from the mark of the restaurandt to the upper parts of the map, “Like the warehouse district north of central.”

Kiritsugu mulled it over in his head, mind running a mile a minute as his eyes darted around the map. The explanation made sense, and it was founded on good logic instead of chivalric naivety. Though he was cautious of throwing the idea of the restaurant not being her base out the window; even if it wasn’t the true Workshop, Caster would need to keep something there, even if only a few Mystic Codes for emergency situations.

And there was still a third reason. A chance to dissapoint.

“And your last reason?” He hesitantly asked, his body tensing as he prepared for the foolish, but predictable, answer.

“I doubt someone as honorable as Shielder could ever resort to such mesures.” Lancer responded, nodding her head as if she had spoken some absolute truth of the world, instead of her usual nonsense.

“You and that stupid chivalry...” Kiritsugu mumbled, his face tightening in irritation at the idealistic nonsense that the woman could so easily spout despite the way her life ended, where her vaunted chivalry just led her to die surrounded by her failures. Frustrasion rising, Kiritsugu let out his grievance, “The real world doesn’t have a place for your honorable fantasies. Modern magi are ruthless and deplorable, even your oh so noble Shielder isn’t any differen-”

A gauntled and heavy hand slammed into the back of Kiritsugu’s head, his face slamming into the desk and putting him a short daze, his head spinning as he slid down on the chair he had been sitting on. Shaking his head and blinking to get the dizziness out, he jumped and turned to the one responsible, angrily shouting, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THA- Ow!”

He backed away, two hands slapped against his temple after Lancer flicked his forehead. Artoria lowered her hand, dismissing the part of her armor she had summoned earlier, before glaring at the two women around her to stay put. Irisviel stayed seated, a conflicted expression on her face, while Maiya leaned back with a frustrated frown, putting away her pistol when realizing it wouldn’t do jack against a Servant. She settled for a silent glower instead.

Artoria’s eyes gave the man a small glare, meeting his own heated one. Sighing, she said, “That, Kiritsugu, was my dissapointment. While I agree that Magi are generally not worth the dirt I step on, I will strike you again if you insinuate that Sir Shielder is in any way like that.”

“And what about what the Church’s meeting said?” Kiritsugu spat out, glaring at the Servant. “You can’t just ignore that he was off killing children.”

Lancer’s eyes widened, staring at him increduously despite already having heard this piece of information from the night before. She leaned in, staring at her Master as her eyes roved over his face, trying to find something. And whatever she found must have been rather surprising.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Because she bellowed out in laughter. Tightly cluchting her stomach. “HAHAHAHA! Ah, Kiritsugu! I didn’t know you were such a joker!”

She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye, shutting her mouth to stop the snickers from escaping. She paused after she looked around, seeing the incredulous stares aimed at her, leaned back as she blinked, her eyes “You lot... actually believed what the Church said, didn’t you...?”

Noting the silent that answered her question, the woman released a heavy sigh and pinched her nose, shaking her head as if dissapointed in her third-grade students. “For as much as you may speak of yourself as some world-weary assassin, you are very easily fooled.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Maiya asked with her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face. “Even with our suspicions of the Church and the Tohsaka working together, if their information is correct and Caster’s Master summoned another Servant, he would need a lot of magical energy to make and upkeep the summon. Taking the souls of those children is simply the logical conclusion.”

“It would be if we were talking about a typical Magus.” Lancer conceded with a nod of her head, her fist clenching at the mention of the children’s fate. She soon pointed up with her right hand, her other landing on her hip, and said, “However, there is one thing none of you have taken into account.”

At their expectant gazes, she steeled her eyes before giving them the single word. “Balmung.”

“Balmung is a Noble Phantasm that can be both a holy sword and a cursed sword. It depends on the person that wields it. While I do not know what it would look like as a cursed sword, we all saw that it ignites in blue flames when wielded by someone good.”

“Hmm.” Kiritsugu silently hummed, frowning at the fact his Servant had a factual reason to her feelings, and wasn’t just relying on her ideals. He looked back at her when he thought of something, a hole in her argument. “But how do you know those blue flames weren’t it’s cursed form’s powers?”

“As a Servant, I am more intune with magical energy that fills our surroundings. And from the energy that flew off that sword, I felt nothing but nobility. However...” The Servant crossed her arms beneath her chest, her right hand gripping her chin as she paused to put her thoughts together. Putting down her hand, she continued her explanation, “Balmung can be a cursed sword or a holy sword, but it can never be equal to the Last Phantasms that are the strongest swords of each, Gram... and Excalibur. Yet... the light that man manifested on Balmung’s blade...”

Her eyes steeled for a moment, staring directly at Kiritsugu’s eyes in defiance of his cyniscism. Her voice was firm as she said, “It was the light of Excalibur. I am sure of it.”

“That light...” Irisviel muttered, now having calmed herself down after her husband sat back down with a pensive if annoyed look on his face. She thought back to the beautiful light she saw from so close, from the warm sensation she felt from it, the light breeze that appeared before the pillar of light. Raising her head, she asked the Servant, “Is it because of that light that you think he is innocent, Lancer?”

“Yes. Excalibur is the greatest of holy swords, a divine construct equaled only by the strongest demonic sword Gram. The fact that Balmung was initially forged from it yet in that man’s hands still shone so bright... it must mean that he is something akin to the saintest of saints.”

“The saintest of saints...” Kiritsugu clicked his tongue at the idea, shaking his head in distaste. “It doesn’t matter if he is a saint. What matters is that the Church put a bounty on his head and the other Masters are going to fall over themselves to get the reward for killing him and his Servants.”

“We will focus on the other Masters, and leave Caster’s team for someone else to deal with. You will keep at your job of protecting Iri,” He told Lancer, who nodded her head without respect nor disrespect, “And Maiya and I will take any opportunity we can to take out whoever we can. That includes Shielder. Even you can’t deny he has to be working with the Fujimura Group.”

The woman froze up, her eyes widening and darting around as she tried to come up with some argument to deny Shielder’s involvement with factually proven criminals. But she came up short, giving up with a big pout forming on the corner of her lip. “No. That I can’t.”

Before Kiritsugu could mentally commemorate, Lancer began making her way to the door, off-handedly commenting, “But I could just go ask them.”

...

“What?”

“Come Maiya.” Lancer grabbed the woman, making her way to the door. “It is still little past noon and with all the action from last night, no one will show their faces so early. We will be going to this Yakuza’s location and find out what deal they have with Shielder.”

“Kiritsugu, you take Irisviel somewhere populated and stay there. I’ll pick you up later.” She turned back to the two inside the room, her mouth sporting a large, sly grin. Her teeth showed like a shark as she mentioned, “I heard the center area’s mall has opened a new clothes shop.”

And with that, the Servant left, dragging a confused Maiya with her by the scruff of her neck, the woman’s shoes dragging on the carpeted floor before she was forced up on the back of the suddenly summoned Lion Saber.

...

...

...

What?

She smelled the wonderful aroma of spring. She felt the gentle grass beneath her sleepy body. She felt the sun’s rays lightly caressing her face, trying to wake her from her sleep. She heard the chirping of birds singing all around. And as she opened her eyes, she saw she had slept on a field of beautiful flowers, a field that seemed to strecth endlessly, like a vast galaxy of endless colors.

No. She had gone to bed at the manor after eating with grandpa. But still, the little girl wasn’t worried.

Illya knew exactly where she was.

Getting up from the flowerbed she had been laying at, she looked around, noticing the various mountais and trees, the little wells of clear springwater that littered the Garden. She smiled at the pretty scenery, almost like a masterpiece made by... by...

“Ugh.” Illya grasped her head with her hands, trying to remember the name of some famous painter that could be good enough to make a painting as beautiful as this Garden. “Leo... Du... binchi?”

“Leonardo da Vinci.” A voice corrected her from behind, small steps through the grass accompanying it. For as much as it brought a pout to the little girl’s face at being embarrassed, she felt giddy when hearing it. “The name you’re thinking of is Leonardo da Vinci, little Illya.”

Smiling widely, Illya turned around, tilting her head as she looked up at the one behind her, a question leaving her lips, “How do you always know so many things when you don’t even know your name, Uncle White?”

White, the man from her dreams that watched over the Garden, shrugged with a warm smile on his face. He was a tall man, though he never looked imposing, his shoulders always sagging as they were now. His pure-white robes hanged down his body like they were a few sizes too big for him, showing his pale skin. Long, wild, white hair streamed down his face and back, somehow always clean despite the many times that they had played in the dirt. Everything about the man was white, even his eyes(though they seemed closer to silver), and Illya decided to call him Uncle White for it. He never complained about it, instead celebrating when he finally had a name for himself.

She had thought he was weird when they first met. It was her first time dreaming of the Garden and she had no idea where she was or what she was supposed to do. She had even cried a little, calling out for her mom or Kiritsugu to come and find her, to take her home and back to the warm bed she always shared with them. But then, he noticed her and came over to help. Despite not knowing who she was or what she was doing in his home, he had put everything aside to help the innocent little girl he had found.

They had walked for what felt like hours, but she never felt tired, talking with the warm man that reminded her of her mom. They had talked about her, about her dreams and nightmares, about her mom and dad, and about him too, though only to find out he had no memories of how he got here, nor any idea of what his name was. When she asked why he had come over to help her if he didn’t even know who he was he simply said;

“I do not know. All I know is that I must help everyone I can see. It’s... perhaps a promise I made long ago.”

After they stopped looking for her parents, he brought her to a gazebo made of ivory, painted in deep blues and bright golds, it’s inner roof awing her when the little dots in it twinkled and moved like the starry sky. She hadpouted when he offered her tea, but after she sipped just to be polite, she stuffed her mouth full, always asking for another cup without a hint of shame. He had laughed, indulging her every time, just happy for having someone to talk to, to tell him about the world outside.

And they fell into that routine; every time she woke up in the Garden, he would treat her with sweets and she would tell him a bunch of things that she read or heard during the day. He always payed attention, never once ignoring the girl in front of him.

Right now, she was sat on his lap, pounting as she recounted everything that had been happening recently, from her mom and dad leaving for some super secret job they had in Japan. She was still worried about what her mom said about never coming back, but Uncle  White already told her that she would see both her parents again, and she trusted him. She just started complaining that grandfather had been pestering her recently, wanting her to ‘be ready for the next time’, whatever that meant.

“Hmm.” White scrached his chin, his eyes closed and a frown on his face as he listened to her. For a second, she worried that she was annoying him and made to apologize, but he opened his silver eyes and smiled down at her, warmth radiating from him. “It seems that your life has been rather troubling recently. You’re a very strong girl for dealing with all this on your own.”

“Hm!” She nodded her head, her eyes closed and her mouth set in a wide smile filled with teeth and pride. When her eyes opened again, she turned around in her seat and hugged the man, surprising him as she gave him a small smile and said, “But I’m not alone. I have Uncle White with me.”

Ahh. What a bright smile. White thought to himself, basking in the glow of this child’s innocence. It made him happy that he could see someone who would smile so brightly. Though why, he could only guess he had a very problematic past. With that thought in mind, he raised his head to look at the bright skies above them, his voice quietly musing, “I wonder... Could it be I really am your uncle?”

“Nah, I doubt it.” Illya immediately shot the idea down, missing the way White hung his head in defeat. She just kept drinking her ice-cream-tea without a care in the world. “Mama doesn’t have any brothers, only sisters, and even then they aren’t really related. You would have to be related to daddy.”

Suddenly, she looked up to his face, narrowing her eyelids as she peered deep into his eyes, going so far as to make him lean back from the piercing stare. But after a while, she let out a loud laugh, saying, “But you two look completely different!”

“Hehehe.” White lightly giggled at the girl’s expression, letting the displeasure of having another possible identity be ripped from him dissolve away in the back of his fractured mind. He wasn’t happy about not knowing who he was, but... for this little girl, he was Uncle White.

That was... should be enough for him.

But it wasn’t.

Without being able to shake off the feeling that he did have some connection to the child in his arms, he couldn’t stop himself from hesitantly asking, “Hey, Illya... What’s your father’s name?”

“Hm?” She raised her head, staring at him with wide eyes a cute tilt to her head. But a smile soon spread once more as she eagerly answered his sudden question.

“Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Illya turned away from Uncle White as she said it, picking up her cute teacup and humming in delight whenever she sipped it.

White raised his head in contemplation, his eyes narrowing at the black hole envolved by a white band that sat upon the sky of the Garden, he tried to pierce through his shambled mind and find some memories, some recollection, anything that told him he was real as can be...

But in the end... He always just...

Came up White.

Chapter Text

I AM VIOLENTLY SICK

I have felt sick for five days with two peaks, one on day 30 when I had either a panic or heart attack, I'm not sure, and today I started off in much pain and I have had many vomit episodes.

Thus, unfortunately, I don't have not the ability to write at the moment. If I haven't written anything in 2 weeks the worst is to be assumed, tho unlikely to happen as I do have a decent recovery capabilities.

Thank you for your patience and if don't see you tomorrow wish you all a good afternoon, good evening and good night.

- transcrided by the worried and confused brother of the author 

Chapter Text

Maiya held herself up by resting her hands on her bent knees, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t spew out the little food she had had back in the mansion. The way Lancer awkwardly rubbed her back wasn’t all that helpful, but it did give her another sensation to focus on aside from her thunderous stomach.

“I really need to learn other people’s limits when riding on Saber.” Lancer murmured, her eyes looking to the side and avoiding the scathing glare from the mercenary.

“You… don’t say.” Maiya pushed out through gritted teeth, directing all of anger to the Servant until she got a muttered apology. Pushing off her knees, she glared one last time at the giant lion staring at her with a bored expression.

She had to admit to a little irritation when Lancer simply dragged her off to the middle of Miyama Town without any proper warning. She didn’t bother trying to understand it either, because she felt she would explode with anger for the first time in years and she wasn’t the type of barbarian to do that.

Shaking her head, she put those frustrations to the back before she began making her way to the sudden objective she had suddenly been assigned to.

The estate could hardly be called a manor; while incredibly large and spacious, there was little of the usual ostentation of wealth associated with such expensive housing. The Fujimura Clan’s primary estate and the home of the Clan’s Leader, Fujimura Raiga, was simple and efficient, high walls of pure concrete made for sturdy defenses, and viewing towers close to them, though hidden in thick foliage of the private jungle-like garden likely surrounding only the walls, showed a good view to notice any incoming visitors, wanted or unwanted.

The main manor was relatively tall, a few meters taller than any other in the neighborhood, its walls being sturdier than what was expected for such houses. Though there wasn’t much color to be found, the blue lines that ran through the middle and bottom of the white walls expertly hid numerous holes, made for easy access for the guards inside to stick out their firearms and shoot. With a few smaller shacks and storage houses placed both at the edges of the estate and a few at the sides, the latter ones much thinner and their entrances pointing straight into the house’s own, the entire place was transformed into a defensive building.

It was, at the end of the day, a fortress made to defend a yakuza clan head.

They managed to walk in pretty easily, Maiya having prepared a preemptive suggestion spell to affect any guards and get them inside. Lancer glared intensely at her when she explained it, but the Servant soon let it go, just muttering she didn’t like suggestion spells in specific.

The two guards took them in, the few others patrolling the grounds giving them curious looks but letting it go when seeing their fellows guiding the women. Though one or two paused and stared harder at Lancer, puzzled recognition in their faces.

After entering the manor, the two were directed to a large room with paper walls decorated with numerous trinkets, from foreign souvenirs to traditional weapons of the japanese, it made for an imposing room for any unfortunate soul that was dragged against their will. To them, it was little more than an inconvenient display.

Smoking on a tailpipe as he lounged on a cushioned pile on the floor was a rather short old man, dressed in a simple kimono of two variations of green, the top being a much lighter shade than the bottom one, and a tiger-stripe patterned, sleeveless jacket draped over it. When he opened his eyes to look at them, Maiya thought the old man was blind, but assumed it be some trick of the eye. Raiga Fujimura was known for participating in wrestling and hunting, so him being blind would turn him away from such activities.

Despite not seeing any pupils, she noticed the way his vision moved from them to the two guards that had entered the room, their ‘guides’, and how he chuckled at it. Putting down the tailpipe on a smoking trail set beside him, the old man smiled to the two women.

“It’s not the first time someone pulled this trick on my boys.” The old man’s words almost made Maiya tense, but she was quick to remember that Caster was the Servant that came to deal with this man. If her Master couldn’t get a referral on his own, her abilities would have made for this exact scenario to happen before. She had forgotten to account for that. “I wish those two had told me what it was, but you can’t expect someone to give up their secrets like that. So, what can this poor old man do for you?”

“We are here looking for information. Information on someone’s whereabouts.” Maiya prodded carefully, buying time to use her second patch of suggestion spells, but needing time to use it discretely. “We received orders to find the one responsible for the recent assaults on families and young children that have happening all across Fuyuki, and we believe you could aid us in finding the perpetrator.”

“Hm. Not the first time I heard that request, but the second it wasn’t from a desperate family begging for protection.” The old man chuckled, a frown appearing on Lancer’s face before quickly leaving. Shaking his smoking pipe, the man pointed to them. “You want to hire my boys to find the killer, then? Cuz I can send you a certain someone’s way if you do one thing for me.”

A certain someone? Are we already that close to Shielder? No, too fast. Putting her thoughts aside, Maiya nodded slowly, knowing how deals between their kind of people. While she was sure that Fujimura Raiga’s demand would be irritating to accommodate in the middle of the Grail War, she knew that it was a necessity to find Shielder. Raising her head to the old man, she asked, “And your condition would be?”

“Stop lying to me.”

Maiya immediately tensed at the sudden shift in tone, the old man going from amused to deadly in the span of a second. She moved to retrieve the hidden gun on her inside jacket, her legs already preparing to jump forwards and take the yakuza leader hostage.

But a strong hand caught her wrist and locked her in place. She turned to the one who caught her with both annoyance and confusion on her face, asking with only a look what the hell she thought she was doing.

Lancer simply stared back with a sideways glare.

Those green eyes moved back to the old man, now visibly frowning, and releasing his grip on a hidden weapon, a Tantō, the weapon sliding back into the kimono. The old man leaned back into his sitting position, glaring Maiya down. She didn’t move until Lancer tightened her grip, forcing Maiya down. She glared at the Servant, but got no response.

“Hm.” The old man huffed before sheathing his weapon, backing down and nodding. “At least one of you is sensible enough to not think I’m stupid. Now, tell me why you’re really looking for and maybe I’ll help you.”

Lancer nodded respectfully, and cut to the chase, “We are looking for a recent fellow of yours, one that has helped you expand your territory into what can only be called an empire.” Sharp green eyes stared directly at the man. “We need to see Shielder.”

Somehow, Fujimura’s frown deepened even further. His hands crossed, once more coming close to his hidden weapon, though what worried Maiya was the fact that the guards she had hypnotized earlier had suddenly snapped in their direction. It seemed they were all protective of Shielder for whatever reason. Enough to break straight through her spell.

She knew she wasn’t the best at it, but this was a blow too deep to her pride. What little she had of it.

“What business do you have with the boy?” Raiga suddenly asked.

“Our employer has received information that he is the one behind the recent killings and wants to find him.” Lancer responded easily, though there was a small frown on her face as she mentioned Kiritsugu’s intention.

“I assume that your ‘employer’ isn’t the law department.”

“He is not.”

Fujimura leaned back, tilting his head as he surveyed the two before him. Neither was hot-blooded or arrogant, so there wasn’t any of the usual avenues for him to take advantage of. But while both were experienced with dealing with people like him, one was far more open about their intentions.

She was clearly trying to get on his good side, but he wasn’t getting any sense of hostility from her. Even when she spoke to him directly, or when she mentioned Shielder, not a hint of harmful intent plagued her words. While she could just be a great actress, he did notice one more thing.

She was pleased as hell. Pleased for what he didn’t know, but if he had to guess while betting on his vast experience, he would say; she is happy that we’re so defensive of him.

It could hardly be called loyalty. They had known of each other for less than a week, and both the woman with him and the man himself made it clear that they weren’t all that favorable with his line of work but were capable of working with criminals to get what they wanted.

It seemed this regal woman cottoned on to the fact that all the man wanted was to help people. And she liked that.

Plus, she looks really similar to that silver-haired noble lady. Are they sisters?

“Why should I help you in any way? The boy has helped me in many ways ever since we met, and your partner didn’t exactly make a good first impression. With all the secrecy, it’s easy for someone to assume you’re out to kill him.” He leaned forward, ashes falling out of his tailpipe as he glared at the two with blank eyes. “And none of us would want that, would we?”

“Of course not.” Lancer nodded politely, conceding the point to the old man and leaving him puzzled. Though he, and Maiya, were soon to be more shocked than anything as Lancer finally sprung out her trap. “That’s why you will show and tell us just what Shielder has been working with you on in order to proclaim his innocence.”

The two stared at Lancer incredulously, pure shock at the demand- no, declaration showing on their faces. Maiya was about to berate the Servant before she saw a smile start spreading on the old man’s face.

She blinked in confusion for a second, before clicking her tongue when she finally caught onto Lancer’s little game, letting her put her foot in her mouth so the Servant could swoop in and pick the meeting back up in a calmer pace.

The King of Knights could be sneaky if she wanted to.

Fujimura Raiga laughed himself hoarse, slapping his knee and emptying his lungs in a tea kettle-like weeze, probably having reached the same conclusion as Maiya had. He took his time to compose himself, and even then, his shoulders were still shaking with mirth and his face was split in half by a wide smile.

He took his tailpipe and pointed the smoking end towards Lancer, cheekily saying, “You. You I like.”

Leaning back, the now smiling man waved his free hand in the air, jovially saying, “Come on. Because of your little audacity, I’ll listen to what you want. But if you want to start hunting down Shielder, I’ll tell you to give up.” He laid his cheek on his fist, grinning as he said, “You’re not strong enough.”

“We have no intention of attacking him.” Artoria responded easily, speaking the partial truth of her own intentions and smoothly keeping Kiritsugu’s own out of the equation. “I simply want to clear his name. And to know it.”

“Heh. Well, if you’re looking for his name, you came to the wrong place. Not even I know the brat’s real name, or of the woman who’s always with him.” The answer startled the two. “They both gave me false names when we first met and they opened the restaurant under the same, so I can’t help you with that.”

For two men who had worked so closely on highly important matters concerning the entire city and the older man’s whole clan to not even know each other’s true identities? That was highly unprofessional in Maiya’s eyes. Though, considering Kiritsugu said they were pretty laid back, maybe I should have expected this…

“The other things are easier. The kid wanted some safehouses and a place to launder money back into the public eye. No idea how he came across more gold than I ever seen in my life, almost gave me a heart attack, but he couldn’t just straight use it, so he came to me to make it legal money.”

“Aside from that, the thing he’s been focusing on was the killer going around. He’s restless about it.” He casually dropped, though it escaped neither women’s notice that he was trying to get the ‘heat’ off of Shielder’s back. “He ain’t the one behind them, but he is hunting the bastard. Asked me to scour the city and help him take out the bastard.”

“Truly?”

“Hm.” Was the quick response. “Even asked us to take care and help any victims we find, in case we found any.” The old man sighed, seeming to suddenly feel all his years crash down on him. “Shame we found nothing…”

“The safehouses?” Maiya prodded.

Raiga snorted at her, smirking evilly. “As if I’m telling you.”

Lancer once more grabbed the mercenary’s wrist, though only confusing Maiya this time since she hadn’t done anything to warrant it. The blonde woman lowered her head in a respectful bow, the picture perfect of a grateful lady. “Thank you for your aid, Elder Fujimura. Once we find Sir Shielder, we will thank him for his services for the city and its people. However, we must take our leave now.”

Maiya started when she heard that, but she didn’t have a chance of resisting a Servant’s strength when Lancer began pulling her up by the shoulder. The two left the room, noticing how the effect of Maiya’s earlier spell began to weather away completely by now. Luckily, Raiga held them back.

They made their way through the manor with a languid pace, Maiya trying to get out of the Servant’s grip as she was dragged off by the arm like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

“What are you doing!?” She asked through gritted teeth, glaring at the blonde. “We need more information!”

Lancer kept her same slow speed despite the fact she could go much faster, simply answering without turning her head, “We have enough.”

“We have nothing!” Maiya hissed, controlling herself not to snap and call every guard’s attention on the two of them. It was still a close thing. “No idea where Shielder is, no idea what his name is, we don’t even know where his Work-!?”

Out of nowhere, Maiya yelled out in surprise as she was bawled over and forced to use her hands to snatch handfuls of fur that materialized from thin air. Holding her so high up despite not even standing on two legs, Saber Lion chuffed towards Lancer, shaking its head and, more tellingly, the stacks of paper in its mouth.

Lancer approached the oversized beast with a smile, petting its mane and praising it. “Good boy, Saber.”

Maiya looked between the two, confusion plastered on her face. When had she sent Saber Lion off? Where had it gone to? And what were those papers in its mouth?

So obvious was her confusion that Lancer easily picked up on it, turning to the mercenary with a sly (though seemingly forced) grin on her face. “Fujimura mentioned the purchase of safehouses. That means a paper trail would be left behind for the purchase of the locale. A purchase that Shielder likely could not do without entering debt or getting the city’s attention on himself, something Morgan would have wanted to avoid.”

Maiya blinked when she realized the obvious consequence of that hesitance. “That means the Fujimura Clan were the ones to buy the place.”

“Morgan wouldn’t be fool enough to keep this-” She lifted the papers in her hands for emphasis- “anywhere she didn’t trust and likely kept such papers with herself. But Fujimura would need a copy of them to hold over their heads in case they tried stepping over the line or crossed the clan.”

“Quite sneaky, Lancer.” Maiya (begrudgingly) praised the Servant, taking the papers in hand and folding them to hide away in her person with a little magecraft to boot. “Even if the names in there are fake, we’ll know where Caster’s Workshop really is.”

The woman missed the way Artoria’s eyebrow was twitching, a vein throbbing in her forehead. With a brittle smile, she pumped up her arm, lazily saying, “Yaaay…”

As they exited the large home, Maiya looked up to the evening sky with a small frown, niggling irritation rising within her. The evening hadn’t been as productive as she expected, and the embarrassment as Lancer did a better job than her wasn’t helping, even if it was miniscule. Though there was a part of her that felt… not elated or anything too extreme but…

Glad. Yes, she was glad. Glad that there was someone out there, a superhuman magus at that, who was going above and beyond in order to protect those who were innocent.

Though, she wished someone like that had been there for her when she was a child.

Pushing away the turbulent emotions, she turned to Lancer, expecting a serene smile or a smug expression for essentially being right about Shielder not being some nefarious monster.

Instead, the woman was pouting.

Maiya stared at the woman incredulously, her face contorting as she tried to figure out the reason for her to be so petulant all of a sudden. Though she sighed when she came to a rather obvious conclusion.

“You really wanted to tell Kiritsugu he was completely wrong about Shielder, didn’t you?”

The blonde turned to her with her frown as clear as day, her eyes narrowed in a scathing glare that did absolutely nothing to intimidate the black-haired gunwoman. Turning away, the Servant muttered, “Let’s just go back.”

Maiya sighed to herself, shaking her head as she followed the pouting blonde woman. She was shook from her casualness when she saw the lion suddenly being summoned, with Lancer now having a tiny, evil smirk. God, she’s such a sore loser!

Fuyuki City’s streets were abnormally busy in the afternoon. It was still hours away from the workday’s end, with most of the adults busy at their jobs and the young still stuck at school. But there was still a lot of people coming to and from, some simply going out to enjoy the day with their children or alone.

The sight made Jaune smile.

He was always happy to see the joy of other people. The easy lives they enjoyed, filled with their own hardships but nevertheless improving, even if only bit by bit. It reassured him of his decision to become a huntsman, even if he was only a faker.

He had wanted his family to be proud, to be famous and a great hero, at first. The memory of his underhanded motives still made him churn with disgust when he thought back to those days, but he was different now. He had a real reason to fight now.

And he could not fail it.

“Hm. What a dumb smile you have on your face, Arc.” Morgan said with a lightly derisive tone, though with the cocky smile she shot him, he could tell she was just trying to tease him. But he thought she wasn’t used to just teasing people, and could tell just how she was forcing herself to not go too far. “Is the chance to be outside really that refreshing? You’re just like a dog.”

“Don’t go saying such mean things, Morgan. You’ll break my heart.” He exaggeratedly put both his arms on his chest, over his heart, his face wincing in pretend. He was just trying to lift the mood a little, and Yang let out a sharp laugh at his act.

Morgan stayed silent; her little smile evaporated. Her eyes glared down the path ahead, a deep frown on her face.

Yikes. Guess she isn’t up for jokes. He thought to himself, his face falling as he stared at the woman. He thought of approaching her, asking her what the problem was, but he already had an idea of what it was.

‘Spirit Origin’.

He had no idea what that was or how it affected him but he knew it was serious. And he knew it had something to do with the Argent Energy trapped in his sword. But he didn’t have it him to push Morgan.

She was a powerful woman. He knew that ever since he first met her, her being capable of putting Merlin of all people into a stunned slumber and punting Jaune off to another dimension at the same time.

But even she had her limits.

He tried to shake off those thoughts, reminding himself that today, for the next few hours, the Holy Grail War and everything about it would go on the backburner. They were here to have a day-off and rest.

But he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions from his friends.

“What’s up with you?” He jerked when he heard Yang’s voice suddenly go off in his head, still not used to the whole telepathic link between Master and Servant. Though he managed to hide his reaction well enough so no one else would notice, Yang kept pushing, “The hell’s going on? You asked us to go out but you look like you’re having a panic attack.”

“Morgan’s worried about last night.” He mentally responded, dodging the thoughts of how easy to read his expressions must be. “I thought going outside would help her nerves, but I think I just mucked it up.”

“Yeah, I thought something was up.” She frowned for a moment, her eyes darting all around before they settled on something. She suddenly jumped forwards, wrapping her arms around Morgan, who let out a squeak of surprise, before the dragongirl pointed to a building with her left arm. “Yo, check it out!”

“Huh/Wha-?” Jaune and Morgan both turned to stare at what Pretender suddenly pointed to (Though in Morgan’s case, she was dragged by the arm gripping her shoulders), curious looks on their faces as they stared at what caught the girl’s attention.

It was a large building, a stretching up and up to the point it became difficult to see the top from where they were standing. Glass windows showed off mannequins with carefully selected outfits just behind them. Other items, purses with gold-tinted logos proudly emblazoned on their fronts. Precious jewels sat comfortably in chain collars and earrings, varying across all sorts of colors and cuts.

It sure didn’t seem like the type of place the average person could just up and enter.

“A… clothing mall?”

“It looks like a grand opening.” Jaune pointed out, the various banners on it written in a different language he could somehow understand without knowing how to read clueing them in. He turned to Yang with an inquisitive look on his face, asking, “What, you want to buy some clothes? Do Servants even need that?”

“Sure they do.” She answered, but the way she turned away from him as she spoke made it clear she just wanted to try out some new stuff. Made sense, considering most of the souls that made her up had no idea what a mall looked like. “Come on, let’s go try something out. Jaune, you’re paying.”

“What am I, a walking bank?”

“Come on, you’re loaded.” She whined, drawing a little attention from the other passersby, but any with impure intent turned all when they noticed it was a giant of a man who looked like he could bench press a tree. Yang barely noticed, just saying, “What’s the point of all that cash if you’re not gonna spend it?”

“Hmmm…” He fake-glared at the blonde, who just stuck out her tongue at him good-naturedly. He turned to the last member of their group with a light smile, kindly asking, “What about you, Morgan? You want to but some outfits?”

“Sure…” Morgan said distractedly, pulling on the fabric of her dark dress. She frowned at it, her icy eyes narrowing at it like it had failed to exceed her already low expectations, and muttered, “It wouldn’t hurt to have some better dresses.”

“All right!” Yang pumped up her free arm, the other squeezing Morgan, who quietly demanded to be let go, irritation clear on her face. The younger one of the two turned back to Jaune, pointing at him and saying, “Jaune, you’re on judge duty.”

The blonde man simply shrugged his shoulders, casually agreeing, “All right.”

Morgan turned to him with a raised eyebrow, confusion obvious on her tone as she asked, “So easily? You do know I, at least, will take my time to find the best they have on offer, do you not? Does it not bother you that we’re likely to spend at least three hours on this?”

He heartily chuckled, though his eyes hollowed out as he responded to the confused Queen, “If you can spend as much time as my older sisters did back when we went shopping then we’ll be here for a month.”

They walked around in the store, picking up a few bits and pieces here and there that caught Yang’s or Morgan’s attention. It didn’t take him too long that the store’s available brands were more expensive than what he was used to and he flinched when looking at some of the tags. Thankfully, neither of them were interested on the more expensive ones, which surprised him considering Morgan was a legitimate Queen.

When she noticed, she simply answered: “It’s not just about the price. The fabric, the design, the value to cost ratio, how it matches your features, all this plays a part. There won’t be a point to wear something expensive if it looks awful with your hair.”

He remembered his mother saying something similar once, but back then he wasn’t really in a position to pay attention after spending five hours on a shopping run with his sisters.

He bit his lip as he thought of his family again, the family he didn’t have the chance to see again even with the Holy Grail. He doubted the thing could send him across dimension when his mind could barely remember what Remnant looked like, the memories buried under years of constant fighting and war.

And there was Camelot to save, his greatest mistake in this world, and he couldn’t fail Arthur even harder by throwing away the wish for something as selfish as going back to a world where he was an already dead man.

Forcefully pushing those thoughts down before they could consume him as they always threatened to do, he focused on Morgan and Yang again. While the latter was zipping here and there inside the store, ecstatic to see more of a modern world few within her had ever seen, the former was more subdued, taking her time to gauge the dresses she took out of the basket (provided by the store) in front of the full-length mirror near the changing rooms.

She was already shaking her head at a few of them, setting them aside and out the basket. She smiled at the ones still inside, seemingly happy with her collection, and went inside the changing rooms, Yang hot on her trail with a much fuller basket. Both could just use magecraft to switch out their current outfit for the new clothes, but when he asked whether any of them would do it, he just got glared at.

Sitting down in front of the changing rooms in the cushioned bench that faced its way, he leaned back and hoped Yang could use this opportunity to help Morgan out of her funk.

As gently as possible, he hoped.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Morgan started as Pretender suddenly, and rudely, questioned, the Extra Servant’s voice slightly muffled from the thin wall that separated their booths. She gnawed at her lip, pretending she didn’t hear anything and simply began putting on a few pieces of clothing she thought would look good.

She should have expected the brute to be too impatient.

Out of nowhere, as she put on a white blazer and was buttoning up the buttons, Pretender simply materialized inside her booth, having phased through the wall in Spirit Form. The blonde barbarian looked frustrated and simultaneously worried, staring at Morgan with a piercing gaze and arms crossed over her chest.

“Come on, talk.” She demanded, though it was a little soft and there was a hint of concern in her words. Maybe Nords were bad at showing such emotions. “If it’s something serious then we can’t just ignore it.”

“…” Morgan kept quiet at the face of the demand. She looked away from those sharp eyes, a little frown on her face, and muttered, “I thought today was supposed to be a day off…”

Pretender huffed, frowning at the deflection. Seems her little trick didn’t work. “Don’t try to change the subject. It won’t work.”

“…Fine.” The Queen relented with a sigh, her brow drawing down in irritation. She moved her fingers through the air, forming an intricate symbol on the surface of the door in a matter of seconds. After she was done, a light black sheen spread over the walls, before she turned to Pretender. “I have put up a Bounded Field solely around our booth. It will ensure that no one hears our words or feels compelled to approach it. We won’t be disturbed.”

“As for what’s worrying me…” The half-fae hesitated, pondering on the best words to use that wouldn’t set off a Dragon Volcano. Though after a whole minute of her pushing her luck, Morgan sighed and gave up. “Jaune’s Spirit Origin is damaged.”

“His Spirit Origin? How-?” The Nord nearly blurted out in surprise, before she caught her own tongue as realization hit in a fraction of a second. It was, after all, a rather obvious answer. “The Argent Energy…”

“Yes, that is my most prevalent theory. It seems that Argent Energy has the unfortunate effect of directly damaging Spirit Origins.”

“How does Jaune even have one?” Pretender asked with a confused face, being met with an arched eyebrow from Morgan. Shrugging her shoulders, the blonde explained, “I mean, as much as he may have been summoned as a Servant by Artoria, even now he’s still a living human. He’s not supposed to have a Spirit Origin.”

Morgan leaned back on the cubicle, resting her shoulders on the wall as she brought a hand up to grip her chin. Even frustrated as she was with the situation, her mind ran a mile a minute as she internally theorized, outwardly admitting, “That you are correct on. Living humans aren’t supposed to have Spirit Origins.”

The Spirit Origin was essentially the heart of a Servant. For as much as they may have appeared as human as they once were in life, Servants were made of Ether bodies that revolved around the Spirit Origin Core.

Servants were summoned in Ether bodies that resembled them in life, with the determination of their appearance and abilities depending on the Spirit Origin. It was not something unique to Servants, but the only other beings that could have them were, well, Spirits.

A human could never have one. They just couldn’t develop it.

“However, Jaune is a special case. I don’t know how. Maybe something happened during his summoning that made it go haywire, and he was summoned before his death, so he wasn’t summoned as a Heroic Spirit.” She put out her hypothesis, her brow drawing down as she pondered on it. She clicked her tongue and leaned back her head as she remembered another detail. “Yet it seems that he was already registered as ‘dead’ by at least one World, making him a Heroic Spirit anyway. He is a living contradiction, an impossible existence.”

“He is a Quasi-Servant.” She concluded, her eyes glaring at the ceiling as she thought of the annoying yet fascinating existence that was her Master. “Something akin to a being stuck between a mortal human body and a Heroic Spirit’s existence. Half human and Half Servant. Such a thing was never heard of before.”

Pretender took a long moment to think over the theory, likely discussing within herself, but she soon put it aside. Raising her eyes to Morgan, she jumped to the earlier point she had been focused on. “How will his Spirit Origin being damaged affect him?”

“Like any other Servant, he simply needs to rest in order to restore his energy and heal himself.” She dodged the question, a frown marring her face. She was tired of this interrogation, and of this frustration mounting ever since she was summoned. “Completing such a process shouldn’t take too long, maybe a day and a few hours considering just how monstrously large his Od, or Aura as you call it, is.”

“That doesn’t answer the question. Be straight with me.” Bloody hell, Morgan could feel Artoria’s voice now. She had to take a deep breath to avoid exploding at the tone. But all hope was lost when the Composite Servant asked, “What’s going to happen to him, Witch?”

Morgan snarled at the insult, her mounting anger finally exploding.

“I DON’T KNOW!” She screamed as loud as her lungs could allow her, shocking Pretender back into Yang Xiao-Long. Yet, the Queen did not stop, her turmoil finally having an actual punching bag for her to pour her anger on. “I have no idea how Aura or Argent Energy work! If I had time, I could find a way to deal with this hassle, but we are in the middle of a Holy Grail War! I can’t just go to Britain, find my old Workshop and spend months experimenting and testing what worked, especially considering that any wrong move could damn well mean the end of the world!”

Morgan panted as she clenched the woman’s collar, her fists almost piercing her palms through the cloth. Her hard breaths were the only thing the two could hear for the longest moment. She let go of the other woman, sliding down the wall until she sat at the cushioned seat attached to it.

“Damn.” Pretender, probably back to Xiao-Long now, fidgeted in place as she avoided looking her partner Servant in the eye, biting back a wince. She glanced all around, nervously apologizing, “Uh… Sorry for pushing.”

Morgan felt like she could be forgiven for any biting remarks she made in response to the poorly handed out apologies, but she bit back her tongue. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she worried over their Master. She shook her head and hastily said, “No. No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s just…” 

“I’m so tired. When I was summoned for the Holy Grail War, I thought it would just be another conflict between mages. A stupid little game where I could easily win with my vast experience.” She rambled, uncaring of how she slouched on her seat with a grim and frustrated look on her face. “And after I met Arc, I was more certain then ever of my victory. One of humanity’s greatest legends, a man whose story stretches through worlds so far from this one… It was perfect.”

“And now I have all of this thrown on my face and am just told to deal with it?” She released a long sigh, palming her face and covering her eyes, hissing through gritted teeth, “Damn you God, just give me a break…”

Pretender gripped her arms tightly, a self-disgusted frown on her face. It disappeared soon, her eyes lighting up as she quickly grabbed a few pieces of clothing from the pile Morgan had left on the basket, jovially saying, “Well, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? Cheer up Mo-Mo, you’re finally getting the break you want.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the slightly forced attempt at lifting the mood, sardonically asking, “And the Argent Energy threatening to destroy the world as we know it?”

The blonde shrugged with a light smile, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she said, “Don’t sweat it. We took care of imprisoning it last night so it can’t do much of anything right now with how weak it is.”

“Small mercies…” Morgan shook her head with a tight smile, but felt her shoulders relaxing. It may be that no one had any solutions to the issue at hand, but worrying over it at every waking moment wouldn’t help anyone. She wouldn’t just forget about the problem, but she could put it aside for now.

Picking up two pieces, a white shirt and a small, black jacket, she turned to the Nord, hoping that someone in her Spirit Origin would be able to give the brute some fashion advice. Outwardly, she just asked, “So, do you think these would look good together?”

“Now we’re talking!” The blonde woman slapped her hands together, a wide smile spreading on her lips. She stared at the pieces of clothing in Morgan’s hands for a while, before nodding her head and giving her appraisal, “Yes. Yes, they would.”

Standing in front of the dressing rooms waiting for the two women to come out, Jaune would be quick to admit he felt nervous. Nervous about a whole lot of things.

Nervous about the Grail War, about the Argent Energy and it’s outbreak last night (and other possible outbreaks if he didn’t solve this shit soon enough). Nervous about Artoria, nervous about Archer… Nervous about his wish.

But right now, he was just nervous about what this looked like.

Yang and Morgan had finally left the changing room and started off with what was quickly becoming a fashion show. Their outfits were good, both knowing how to dress well and how to mix and match their clothes (somehow, in Yang’s case).

Though now he was noticing the type of outfits they were going for. While Morgan stuck more to dresses and formal clothes, Yang went all out with testing every little thing she could get her hands on. Full on dresses that covered every part of her, short shorts that did the bare minimum for privacy, and no matter how loose, every top she picked was just stretched to the fabric’s limits. Something Morgan jealously glared at.

She wasn’t small by any means, a fact he was becoming increasingly aware of at this time, but Yang was just ridiculous, even in Remnant. And good Oum almighty, he was becoming far too aware of the fact his teammates for this War were smoking hot women.

While pretty much every partner he had fought alongside in all these years since he entered Beacon were ladies of stunning beauty, this was the very first time he was continuously hit on the face with the fact. Tantalizing curves in just the right places, toned muscles and slim belies. He didn’t know he could find hips of all things attractive, but Morgan’s were awakening something in him.

He couldn’t even escape by looking at their faces, because then he went from sexy bodies to mesmerizing features.

He almost had a heart attack when the two began having an impromptu competition over which bikini showed off more skin. He put a stop to it when Morgan came out on straight up lingerie. Seems competitiveness was just natural in the Pendragon family.

And oh, hello teenage hormones, been a while. Only reason he didn’t pitch a tent was his own efforts to calm himself down.

If Gawain could see me, he would strangle me.

Feeling his mother’s disappointment while ignoring her encouragement to give her more grandchildren, he tore his gaze away from the… spicier areas of what they were showing him, and instead focused on what was truly important. And with it, he let out a small smile.

The longer he stared, the more relived he felt. Morgan seemed to be in a much better mood, the little tells she accidentally showed letting him know that she was fine now. Well, not fine, since she clearly was still a little tense, but she was becoming a little more relaxed with every trip to the booths, laughing along with Yang and preening with pride whenever he complimented her looks.

Right now, he was waiting for Morgan to change, the woman taking her time to change. Yang was sitting next to him, sporting a biker-like zipper jacket of black with yellow highlights on the arms open right above her chest, and beige pants that tightly hugged her legs and hips. She grinned his way, her eyes hidden by orange tinted shades, and leaned on his arm.

“Come on, Vomit Boy.” Oh, lord he knew that tone, both from this Yang and the one from Remnant. She was going to tease the shit out of him and make sure to make him feel like a blushing virgin. Which he was, but he wasn’t ready to deal with this right now. “There’s two super sexy ladies showing off in front of you, and not even a reaction?”

He turned to stare at her with astonishment, wondering both why she was suddenly being horny and whether his pants were really that loose. With narrowed eyes and a pull on his lips, saying, “Yang, Morgan is literally old enough to be my mother.”

He blinked before rapidly correcting, “Scratch that, she is my friends’ mother and my best friend’s sister! And a married woman at that!”

“We both know her marriage with Lot wasn’t the most ideal thing in the world.” Yang countered for some reason, both her tone and eyes flat. For a second, he felt like he was talking to someone else. “Or acceptable.”

His head fell to the side, surrendering the point, but his eyebrow twitched as he muttered, “Still doesn’t make it less weird…”

“Hm. Point taken.” Yang surrendered. Suspiciously so, making him stare at her from the corner of his eye. It just wasn’t like her to admit defeat like this, not with how prideful she could be. Could this be influence from the more humbles ones in her Spirit Origin, like Bedivere?

His musings were interrupted when she suddenly leaned forward and pointed to herself, asking with a grin that, for some reason, didn’t reach her eyes, “But what about me?”

He looked off to the side, refusing to look Yang in the eyes after that question. Not that she wasn’t pretty, or that he didn’t feel anything but… “With you it’s… different… weird…”

“Hmmmmm…” She leaned away, dragging out her hum and making him cringe and shrink on himself. Though she didn’t have any mercy for his awkwardness, going straight to the next question… “Weird, or do you feel like…”

And making his heart stop. “You don’t deserve this?”

In that single moment, every muscle in his body tensed. After that, nothing else in the world existed aside from the two of them, and the pounding ache on his chest. Blue eyes, wide and panicked, stared at the floor beneath and refused to leave them. His fingers closed tightly, his Aura sparking as his nails began digging into the palms of his hands. His teeth grit on each other hard enough for him to fear they would break.

Ignoring his sudden panic attack, Yang- no, Pretender, kept speaking.

“I may be only a fragment of the Dragonborn, but I’ve been in that sword for a while. I know you Jaune, better than you know yourself. And oh boy, let me tell you…” She pulled down the shades, her eyes now as serious as the day they fought Alduin, but a curious blue this time. She stared at him intensely, making sure he paid attention to her words- no, her warning, “The old man isn’t happy with your wish.”

Old man?

“Just… Change your wish. Before we get the Holy Grail.” She told him to, more of a plea than a command, her voice sad and tired, but mostly… resigned. Like she knew he would need to be pushed harder to really do as she said. Though she knew how to make him panic enough to take her seriously, “Otherwise, we won’t get our wish at all.”

Yang went back to the changing room, and after she came out in an aviator’s outfit, but lacking the hat and googles, posed alongside Morgan in her jeweled black dress with golden chains hanging around her hips and between her chest, acting like their last talk hadn’t even happened. He decided to go along with it, knowing that right now wasn’t the best time to think over that kind of thing.

But that didn’t mean he was going to put it aside forever. He couldn’t afford to, after her last words earlier. He would just… think it over later, when he had more time and less things to worry about. Not even a single Servant was dead yet, so he had time. That and hope.

He would always have that.

It was around an hour and a half later that the two finally finished their public fashion show, laughing heartily with each other. He stared at Yang for a bit, mentally replaying their conversation before once more locking it away. They turned to him when he approached, already asking, “So, what outfits will you two take?”

“Only four or five of the ones we tried out for me.” Jaune felt his heart clench at the amount of clothes he would be buying for them. Four or five pieces was fine but outfits? He would have to cut down on some expenses on the restaurant.

“Eh. I think I’ll take just a few pieces that I liked.” Yang said with a casual smile, “I’m not the type to get a whole wardrobe every time I shop.”

Jaune sighed in small relief, his shoulders slouching as he mentally tallied the bill. It didn’t look pretty but he wasn’t going to go broke any time soon, what with the restaurant and the septims laundering on the side. “All right. Choose the ones you’ll take and then we can go pay.”

“Oh?” Morgan suddenly jolted, her expression morphing into an impish grin as she slowly turned to him. “And what makes you think we’re done here, Master? There’s still someone here who didn’t try out for any costume.”

“Yeeaah…” Yang made much the same move, driving a shiver down Jaune’s spine as his eyes swept from one suddenly dangerous woman to the other. “It would be really unfair if we got all these clothes and our Master didn’t get anything for himself. Buuut…”

Morgan picked up, her grin growing ever wider, “I doubt his fashion sense is anything to go by…”

Yang’s eyes narrowed towards him, her own smile making him feel like a rabbit in front of a particularly sadistic fox. Though, a sadistic dragon might be more accurate in this case. “Maybe we should be the ones to choose what he’ll wear…”

Jaune sighed the sigh of the hanged man, knowing from experience where this was going. “All right, all right, I got the hint.” Brushing past the two, he entered the man’s changing room, calling out to the two, “Just bring the clothes and I’ll try them on. And Yang? No speedos.”

The girl’s mischievous grin disappeared in an instant and shifted into a pout, throwing away the thin piece of near non-existent fabric that was in her hands. “Aww. Spoilsport.”

They spent easily another hour on him trying out whatever costumes the two chose for him, these ones actually a lot more mundane than the ones they had picked for themselves, though one or two did give him a heart attack with how pricey (or tacky) they were.

Some were more like casual wear, one combo being a simple jacket with a sleeveless shirt and thin cotton pants. Others were more formal, one jet-black tuxedo with golden embroidering and stark white undershirt and pants with blue frills beneath both.

He felt like a tool wearing them, blushing madly whenever he looked himself in the mirror (specially the black pants clinging tightly to his ass), and wishing a hole could just swallow him up. Though, if his audience’s reaction (mainly Yang) was anything to go by, he made the outfits look good, like a professional model.

…Or a male stripper.

Soon enough, the time came to pay for the few clothes they would take. He let Morgan and Yang choose what would be bought from his part, though he did put a limit on the price. They took a few minutes to decide what was the absolute best and put them on the bag along with the rest of the clothes they wanted. Unfortunately for him, the tight black pants were coming along.

Jaune watched them go apprehensively, Yang waving his card while Morgan chastised her for her carelessness, though he could see a slight smile playing on her lips. He was worried the two might pick up some other things and max out the card, but he trusted Yang-… He trusted someone in Yang’s Spirit Origin to be able to hold the two back from going overboard. I mean, Sarah Lyons is there, so… I shouldn’t worry too much.

He did worry that his eyes slipped to their hips, swinging almost hypnotically. He was quick to tear them away as his mother taught him (read: put the fear of God on him), but the image was seared onto his mind.

He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before he made his way to the bench that sat in front of the changing rooms. Turning around, he fell down on it with a heaving sigh.

Just like the guy dressed in all black that sat beside him.

Chapter Text

Walking leisurely on the sidewalk, the couple of opposite colors of white with red and black with gray gained plenty of looks. The silver haired woman was the very picture of beauty, but the man beside her could best be adequately called groomed at best. Kiritsugu wouldn’t be offended by the description.

He still didn’t quite grasp the reason why Lancer suddenly forced them together like this. At least she had had the foresight to order them to stay at a populated place to avoid any fights. But it was unusual for the Servant to pull something like this.

He didn’t bother asking Iri if she knew why Lancer decided to act out. He trusted his wife to tell him if it was something detrimental or important, but most of all, he didn’t really care. It wasn’t necessary for the Master and Servant to understand each other. He may have a better relationship with Lancer than he expected, but it didn’t change that simple fact.

She was a tool. He was the Master.

But right now, on the streets after her little stunt, he was just a grumpy-looking civilian. One who was getting weird looks from the people around them.

Mainly because of Irisviel.

Irisviel hadn’t come as covered up as she usually did. Where she normally wore a heavy-white coat and a fur hat, she was dressed in a burgundy shirt with a neck ribbon, a white skirt that covered almost to her knees and her usual black stocking under thigh-high white boots.

Even if this was her more casual outfit, compared to the elegant dresses she used in the Einzbern Castle, it was still a style that was unusual to see on the streets. She looked like a celebrity trying to blend in with everyone but had no idea what common people dressed like.

He was lucky to have her be with him. He was even more unlucky to be losing her so soon.

Could it be that? Did Lancer figure out Irisviel’s fate? He shook his head with a frown, throwing away the thought. If she had, she would have confronted me about it. Her ideals wouldn’t allow for any less.

He felt a light tug on his sleeve, turning his head to see Irisviel looking dejected but still trying to keep a smile on her face. It hurt him to see her like this, but he needed to push those emotions down. He couldn’t afford to let them get in the way.

Tuning back to reality, he silently questioned Irisviel with a raised eyebrow. She pointed to a nearby store with large placards announcing a grand opening. Some sort of big, foreign company of high-end fashion. It wasn’t his type of place, but it would be useful to pass the time, even if he didn’t quite get why Iri had chosen it of all things.

Gesturing for her to lead the way, he walked behind her as she strutted into the place, entering it without much trouble. The two walked inside the clothes store, feeling the cold air hit them in the face but neither flinched from it. It was, in fact, a welcome reprieve. Both were used to much colder climates, having spent around a decade in the Einzbern Castle. Even if it wasn’t the most pleasant of places, it still had many fond memories for the two.

“Kiri…” Iri called out to him hesitantly, making him look at her with a buried worry. Her smile was a little strained, but it recovered a little when he instinctually held her hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, mesmerizing in their beauty, and warmly said, “I’m going to see if there are some clothes that might interest me. And I’ll see if I can find anything for Illya. She’ll want a souvenir.”

He thought of how bringing back a plastic box back to Illya, instead of her precious mother whom she expected to see again because of some strange dream magician, was soul crushing. Just the image of his little princess crying and screaming for her mother while the only thing he could offer was some random piece of cloth was almost enough for him to burst out in tears himself.

But he held it in, as he always had. Making sure that no one could be affected by his burden. Nodding to Irisviel, she released a small breath before pointing towards another area, saying, “I know you’re not really into shopping, so you should find somewhere to sit. You look like you need it.”

He could handle staying up for at least another day before he really needed to take a rest, but he refrained from saying it. He knew the tone Irisviel just took with him meant that she wouldn’t have him running himself haggard when the opportunity to recharge was presenting itself so calmly.

And there really wasn’t any trouble to expect. The other Masters, still reeling from last night, wouldn’t act out until the night. With the Church putting an enormous bounty on Caster’s team’s heads, they would be too focused on strategizing the best ways to take him out. Even if one of them approached Irisviel, their only focus would be to team up and take out Shielder.

And Kirei Kotomine couldn’t afford to get out of the Church’s base without alerting the jumpy Masters. Today was a safe day, with that thing in a quiet spot.

Walking in the opposite direction to the one Irisviel went by, he let his shoulders slouch and massaged his forehead, his eyes closed as he grit his teeth against the headache forming. It had been some time since his last proper rest and his body hadn’t recovered completely yet. But there wasn’t much he could do about that; the Holy Grail War was a far too chaotic thing for him to get any more than four hours of sleep.

Though his body sure hated it.

Finding the seating area, he swept back his long coat and let himself drop down like a weight, releasing a heaving sigh.

Just like the blonde guy beside him.

The two looked at each other, and Kiritsugu instinctively analyzed the man from head to toe. Toned muscles, firm limbs, wide back and shoulders, and hands that curled over imaginary objects, and sharp eyes that stared directly back to his own. Kiritsugu had to stop himself from frowning or tensing in any obvious way, unless that man beside him catch it.

Before he could glance at the man’s right hand, the blonde suddenly asked, “Tough day?”

Blue eyes, though unnaturally sharp on someone so young, looked at Kiritsugu softly, with a hint of amusement in them. He let out a small, almost embarrassed smile as he continued, “Though, to be honest, you look like you had a tough year. No offense.”

Kiritsugu glanced away, faking embarrassment and checking for any others with the man. He then lowered his shoulders and shrinked on himself, making for a more harmless appearance. He made sure not activate his magical circuits in case this guy was a magus.

It would be just his luck of he just bumped with a Master in the middle of an outing. Somehow, this is Lancer’s fault.

The man beside him sighed, scratching the back of his head with his gloved hand. “Sorry about that. You just looked pretty tired and I… I don’t know, thought I could maybe help, somehow.”

“Name’s Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. The lad-” The man, Jaune, stopped himself from finishing, a look of mild horror flashing across his face. Shaking his head, he smiled again and extending his hand in greeting, finishing, “And the less said about my luck with women, the better.”

Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow at that. He took the hand when he didn’t feel any mana in the air, a light inspection showing there weren’t spells on the glove, and asked, “Who taught you that line?”

“My dad. He… wasn’t the best at giving advice.” Jaune Arc cringed, the awkwardness any teenager felt when talking about their parents showing clearly on his face. I would say he sounds better than Norikata, but that’s setting the bar way too low. “His other love advice was ‘you just need confidence’, which doesn’t make sense when the only reason mom agreed to go out with him was because... he was... persistent.”

Kiritsugu frowned in confusion as the man’s voice began dwindling as he spoke, gaining a saddened tone as his face fell. The man soon jumped back to a calmer attitude, a small smile on his face as he cheekily pointed out, “And you haven’t introduced yourself yet, so what should I call you?”

Kiritsugu racked his brain for a name that would have no connection to him and that a foreigner would assume was common for Japanese people , and quickly found something that could work. “… Hiera-no-Abe.”

The man nodded, taking the name at face value and not looking any deeper. Putting his hands down between his legs, the blonde tilted his head and tried again, “So… you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Why are you so interested?” Kiritsugu asked, trying to be casual but his voice was still a bit tense.

The blonde scratched his cheek, looking off to the side with embarrassment clear on his face. “Well… to be honest, I’m not. But you look like you need help and I’m free right now, so might as well give it a shot.”

“I heard talking things out helps. I-ah- I don’t really do it…” The blonde suddenly looked to the side, muttering, “Maybe I should. We would be here all day, though...” Shaking his head quickly, he turned back to Kiritsugu, a tight smile on his lips as he asked again, “So, what’s up? Work?”

“…You could say that…” Kiritsugu sighed, his patience with this little time-waste thinning by the second. Wanting to just get this over with, and knowing how persistent some people could be, he caved in. “It’s nothing too strenuous. I’ve just been having some issues with one of my coworkers. I was supposed to be out preparing for my next shift, but that idiot managed to spin me around and force me to come out here with…”

“Your wife?” Arc guessed. Kiritsugu’s eyes subconsciously snapped to the man, who raised his hands placatingly as he smiled, saying, “You seem old enough to have one, so I sort of assumed.”

He gained a look of confusion soon enough, arching an eyebrow as he asked, “So why would your coworker force you two together like this? Marriage problems?”

“…” For as much as Kiritsugu may have tried his hardest, there was no way for him to simply stay unreactive when faced with thoughts of his wife’s inevitable fate. His eyes turned downwards, seemingly turning even more hollow than they already were, his lips just sadly whispering, “… In a sense.”

Arc was silent for a long moment, his eyes staring at Kiritsugu, before he suddenly let out a quick gasp. Turning his head away from the hiding mercenary, his mouth set into a thin line, Arc guessed, “She’s dying... isn’t she?”

Kiritsugu hummed in confirmation, letting out more details than he was comfortable with, but something steered him forwards in the conversation. He glanced at the blonde and pointed out, “You’re quick to notice.”

“You had the same look on your face as a friend of mine once did.” The man’s shoulders hunched, his eyes, their light now dimmed, gaining a faraway look as he continued, “Paulson lost his wife and son to… kidnappers, and he couldn’t do anything to stop them. Last I checked he was off being some frontier town’s sheriff… or something.”

Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow at that, tiredly asking, “A sheriff?”

“It’s a long story, and a pretty far away place.” Arc waved his hand almost dismissively, refusing to answer any more about this supposed friend. Resting his arms on his knees, the rest of his body slouching, the man asked, “Is there nothing that can be done… for her?”

“…No.” Kiritsugu responded after a long pause. “Trust me, I tried everything.”

And that part wasn’t a lie. He had thought over countless theories, poured over endless books and investigated the Einzbern Homunculi Production process enough to be capable of making one himself completely from scratch. He had spent weeks without sleep trying to find a way to spare Irisviel from her fate.

But in order to make his wish, he needed to lose her.

Story of my life.

“But if you know she’s going to die…” Arc, who had looked down sadly, raised his head until his eyes could look at Kiritsugu, confusion in them. “Why are distancing yourself from her?”

Kiritsugu felt irritation rising in his chest before it died down, only its ember pushing him to ask the man, “Can you imagine what it’s like? To wake up every day and see her strained smile, the two of you knowing that soon enough, neither of you will see each other again? How painful it will be to return to our daughter, alone, and listen to her asking where her mother went?”

Kiritsugu lowered his head, clasping his hands together and resting his temple upon his raised thumbs. His whole body trembled in place, the man clenching his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. Through gritted teeth, he admitted to the man beside him, his greatest fear, “I can’t stay close to her. I’ll break if I do.”

“…” Arc stayed silent at that, digesting the words of the man beside him as he quietly fell apart. Though he soon turned back to ask, “What about her?”

Kiritsugu blinked, turning to Arc with a confused look. “Huh?”

“She’s living the last weeks, or maybe days, of her life, right?” The question was rhetorical, Kiritsugu not even getting a chance to answer before the blonde asked another one, “Don’t you think she will break too, if you stay away for so long?”

“There’s nothing I can do, and she accepted her fate as well.” He answered, his angered tone betraying the hollow feeling he felt growing in his chest. Engaging with this man was quickly becoming a mistake, but he couldn’t hold back his biting remark, “You’re telling me to risk it all just to give her some false hope?”

“Not false hope.” Arc was quick to rebuke, “But if the two of you love each other to the point you think you’ll break if you stay close to her before she’s gone, then I guarantee you... you’ll feel a whole lot worse when she is gone.”

“You’ll regret not spending at least another day with her when you had the chance.” He turned away from Kiritsugu, not seeing the Mage Killer’s eyes staring up at him. “You’ll regret that you can’t tell her you love her, that you cherish her, that you want to be happy with her…”

“You will hate yourself more than anything else.” The words flowed out of the blonde at a languid pace, his eyes losing their light as the pain in his chest became clear to see. It was a deeply ingrained distress that had been locked away for long, and its intensity made sure Kiritsugu listened. “The relief you don’t feel by staying away from her won’t ever come, no matter how much distance you put between you and her. Those thoughts will always come back, those regrets will always clench around your heart.”

The words surprised Kiritsugu, making him pause as he took into consideration the other man’s speech. The broken tone, the pain and grief clear as day on his face, it all pointed to something rather obvious.

This man was familiar with Kiritsugu’s pain. It was impossible for them to have had the exact same story, but something similar, something that led this man to lose people close to him, to never again be able to see them outside dreams and nightmares.

But no matter how his words affected Kiritsugu, the Mage Killer couldn’t yet accept them. “You got no idea how much I don’t deserve to feel that relief. I don’t deserve that happiness.”

“It’s not about what killers like us deserve.” The man said, lightly surprising Kiritsugu with his words. A large, warm hand laid over the Mage Killer’s shoulder, squeezing it in a show of comfort that both men needed but could never truly accept. It didn’t stop Jaune from finishing his statement, his words of wisdom; “It’s about what she needs.”

Kiritsugu frowned, glancing at the man from the corner of his eye. “… When did you figure me out?”

A sad smile spread across Jaune’s face, patting Kiritsugu on the back as he answered, “I didn’t have to.”

Jaune’s eyes darted to behind Kiritsugu, suddenly saying, “I have to go…”

He got up from the seat, patting his trousers. He turned to Kiritsugu, that sad smile still there as he said, “While I doubt it was fun to talk, I still hope it helped you somehow. And keep what I said in mind.”

“I didn’t have the misfortune of having them die on me, but I do know what it’s like to lose your family out of nowhere. To lose them again and again... Just make sure you won’t regret staying away from her for so long.”

“I hope you can be happy for however long you have. Good luck.”

And with that, Jaune Arc left, his back growing distant as Kiritsugu stared at him.

Kiritsugu leaned back on his seat, releasing a deep, long sigh. He hadn’t expected a therapy session of all things in the middle of the Holy Grail War, and he hated how it made him confront some of the worst aspects of this entire venture.

He knew he had to lose Irisviel for the sake of his dream. Without her sacrifice, the Grail would never manifest. He hated that. Hated it with all his soul, but he had long since accepted that fact.

He stayed away from Iri because he knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it if he didn’t. But the idea that she would suffer even more than he already was if he kept this distance between them… It hurt.

Damn it, why couldn’t anything in his life be simple.

At that moment, Irisviel returned with a plastic bag in her hand, her body turned as she waved away a blonde girl and another woman wearing a hat, both of whom returned the wave. Kiritsugu didn’t pay them much attention, even if the girl felt familiar, and instead looked over his wife.

An idea, one born of desperation to escape the sudden pain brought up by his earlier conversation, wormed its way into his head.

He couldn’t. He would falter if he did. He didn’t deserve this-

No. That doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters… He looked back to Irisviel, seeing in front of him, smiling widely at him, a smile of his own spreading through his face, surprising her. … is what she needs.

The couple of opposites continued their leisurely stroll through the city, Irisviel brimming as she saw the way her husband smiled warmly, not a hint of pain or hatred surging in him.

She had never felt more spoiled.

Rider was insufferable.

Seriously, buying random, useless stuff and cutting into Waver’s already small budget, and demanding that they go outside just because he wanted to one-up Lancer.

And Waver doubted that Rider would with his tight jeans and emblazoned shirt.

The two of them had been going from store to store in the commercial district, buying trinkets and souvenirs all around, tanking Waver’s budget. It grated on him that he was losing what little pocket money he had, but at least Rider was considering of the situation and only bought what they could afford.

Right now, they were inside of a library. While Rider wasn’t right behind him, the Servant was still within the library, though in another section on the floor below. It was a little strange that, when they got here, Rider hadn’t buzzed off to God-knows-where. He was fully prepared to give away his wallet and whatever money was there to make sure the meathead wouldn’t steal or plunder anything. But instead of goofing off, Rider had insisted on staying close. He had kept his wallet, though.

Waver wasn’t complaining; if Rider wanted to act like a proper Servant for once, he would gladly accept it.

He paused when, as he was walking through the ancient history section, he saw a book titled ‘Alexander, The Great’. His interest peaking, he pulled the thick tome out and hefted it on one arm, the hand of the other flipping through the pages.

Landing on a page around the middle of the book, he began reading to himself, “The King gave away control of the conquered lands along with the rights over their taxation to the local nobles and took his armies further eastward.”

Just like how I saw it in my dream. The young mage thought to himself, not even noticing the serene smile that began spreading across his lips. The image of Rider smiling as he watched the foggy sea came to his mind. He continued his campaign so he could see Okeanus. It was all he ever wanted.

As he was reading, he heard an excited rumbling of footsteps. Confused, Waver turned in the direction of the sound, deflating when he realized it was his Servant running to him with a wide smile on his face and a bag of goods on his hand. The tanned man yelled, “Boy! Boy! You need to meet who I saw outsid- Is that a book about me?”

Waver started as he realized that Rider managed to read the title of the book he had been reading. He tried to shove it back inside but, in his embarrassed fumbling, Rider caught it out of his hands. As he opened the book, the King of Conquerors muttered, “You’re a strange guy. Here I stand before in the flesh, yet you’re looking for a less reliable source? If you want to know something, just ask me.”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll ask you something!” Waver shouted inside the library, drawing a few ired gazes his way before they quickly left once seeing Rider. The boy took the book and flipped through its pages, shoving it in Rider’s face once he got to the portion he was looking for, and pointed at it with a finger. “Here it says you were pretty short. So how come you’re so bafflingly huge?”

“Me? Short?” Rider repeated confusedly with a wide-eyed stare, scratching his head as he spoke, “Just goes to show how little you can trust books when you don’t even know who wrote them. Hahaha!”

Waver recoiled at the tall man’s laughter, confused by his reaction. He blinked away his astonishment, but couldn’t help himself from asking, “Aren’t you angry about it being written wrong? I mean, any ruler from any era would surely want to go down in history, and they wouldn’t stand for falsehoods being spread about them.”

“Hmm.” The King of Conquerors looked up and gripped his jaw, considering the words of his Master over and again before responding, “While it’s a nice form of immortality to be remembered by history books told over thousand years after your death, I think I would have preferred just taking a few decades from that and added to my life.”

“So, you really died in your thirties?”

“Hmhm. That I did... Oh, right.” Rider blinked as he seemed to remember something, and his huge grin suddenly reemerged. “But enough of that! I saw someone outside and we should both go talk to him.”

“Wha- hey, wait!” Waver yelped as he was dragged out the store by his arm. Coming out to the street, he looked around, asking, “Rider, who are you talking a-AAAAAAHHH!””

His scream, which startled pretty much everyone out on the street, was because he noticed a particular group. A very particular group with a blonde-haired muscular man waving towards them with a silver-haired woman palming her face and a blonde girl just looking confused.

“Shhh! Don’t be so alarmed!” Rider held up a finger to his mouth, frowning towards his Master as if Waver didn’t have all the right in the world to go into a panic right now. “They’re just fellow participants, calm down a little.”

“Just fellow participants my ass!” He yelled at Rider, who, for once, flinched back from his Master’s anger. “They’re the strongest group of the whole Grail War right now, and you brought us right to their line of sight!”

“Oh, simmer down, won’t you? You’re the one causing a scene.” Rider ignored the aneurysm he was giving Waver and looked over to the trio, Shielder calling them over as he and his two Servants walked ahead. “Oh, they’re going somewhere. Let’s go, boy!”

Waver grit his teeth, pushing down both his frustration and the pain in his shoulder when Rider began dragging him off after Caster’s team like a misbehaving child. They weaved around the streets and corners, always keeping Caster’s team in their sight

“Are we really going to follow them inside?” The young magus couldn’t help but ask. To him, someone raised and a little experienced with how the magecraft world worked, he was naturally weary of being in the same place as a high-grade magus without making the proper preparations. But when he glanced at Rider, he saw only an eager smile on the Servant’s face. “How are you so calm about this!?”

“Because they mean to talk.” The Macedonian answered easily. Waver jolted from the reply, pure shock showing clearly on his face. They mean to talk? Why? How could Rider even tell? His questions reverberated in his mind as Rider pushed him inside the café.

When they entered, he could see the group of three casually sat at a corner table, the only man there lightly arguing with what looked like one of the waiting staff, who had brought out various pieces of food and drink, from cakes and cookies to coffee. He paused when he saw Rider and waved them over.

Rider slapped him in the back as they saw it, saying with gusto, “See? Next time, put a little trust in me, boy. Now, let’s go speak with them; I desire to ask a few things of them.”

Approaching, Waver caught the tail-end of the argument, something about Shielder always paying too much on the tip and that he had already helped the business enough for them to stay in business.

Weird. A typical magus wouldn’t care to help out random failing businesses. But thinking on it, everything about Shielder is atypical.

“Ahoy there! A good evening to you!” Rider cheerfully greeted the group, getting a return from Shielder and a glance from the new Servant. Caster just nodded, barely acknowledging them. “And to you as well, Caster. And I assume this is the famous second Servant you two summoned.”

The blonde smirked like a predator, power emanating from her as she crossed her arms over a chest that made Waver snap his eyes away lest he get stabbed. She stared the giant in the eyes and, with a nod, presented herself, “Pretender. Cool to meet ya, Iskandar.”

Waver cleared his throat, straightening his back as he tried to maintain his composure in front of the strongest group in the Holy Grail War. He could feel a bead of sweat running down his forehead, but he coughed into a closed fist and bowed his head, presenting himself as seriously as he could, “I-I am Waver Velvet, third generation of the Velvet Family. It-it’s an honor to meet an accomplished magus such as yourself.”

“…” He’s silent. He’s probably not impressed by a third generation. How many generations does his family have? Eight? Maybe nine? For him to be so powerful when he’s just a few years older than me, he’s probably from some big shot family…

“What does you mean with ‘third generation?”

… Eh?

“Oh, bloody hell, Jaune.” Caster palmed her face, turning to her Master with a light frown as he hunched his shoulders. For the shockingly ignorant super-powered human’s benefit, she gave a basic explanation, “It means that his bloodline has been active in the world of magecraft for three generations. That should be obvious enough, no? Did that pansy bastard teach you nothing?”

Tugging at his collar, the man replied, “Not… really.”

Deciding to reinsert himself in the conversation, Rider grabbed the table’s attention by asking, “So, for what reason did you bring us here, Master of Caster?”

The blonde man leaned back his head with a nervous smile, scratching the back of his head. Waving his other hand in front of him, he said, “Hey, hey, we shouldn’t be calling each like that around here, Rider. Just call me Jaune. Jaune Arc.”

“Then I shall allow for you to call me Alexander.” Rider said, smiling widely. “It’s a more common name in this era.”

“I’ll stay as Caster, please.” Caster crossed her arms, clicking her tongue. “I have no intention of changing myself for the sake of the humans around me.”

Pretender just shrugged, clearly not caring either way. “Eh, Yang’s a normal enough name, so you can call me that.”

“Hahahahaha!” Rider loudly laughed, drawing a bit of attention to their table, but the costumers turned their heads away with small smiles on their faces after seeing the joyous foreigner out with who were likely his friends from overseas. Without noticing, Rider nodded his head and said, “I see you gathered an impressive duo of companions to your side, Jaune Arc. You must be very confident in their abilities and your own to come out here in the open after last night.”

Jaune Arc, Shielder, smiled lightly, nodding his head and taking a sip from his drink as he said, “Well, I may be tired but these two are pretty strong. I don’t have anything to worry about with them by my side.”

The two women preened at the words, Pretender rubbing her nose with a sly smirk and Morgan puffing her chest with pride. But being right in front of them let Waver see the light dust of pink that rose in their cheeks. The young boy’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. There’s no way… right?

“Hm?” Rider tilted his head, letting out a quick bark of laughter. “Oh no, I had noticed you seemed strong the moment I saw you outside. I was praising you for the courage of coming out here in the open when there’s a bounty on your heads.”

“…” The trio of blondes (though Caster was more of a platinum blonde) blinked, their smiles wiping away and being replaced with confused frowns. Comedically, the three tilted their heads to the right at the same time, though Caster was the only one to ask, “Bounty?”

It was Rider’s turn to blink, a derpy smile on his face as he regarded the three before him and studied their expression. Leaning forwards, he lowly whispered to the three, “The Church’s Overseer put a bounty on your heads last night. The whole Grail War is officially on hold until the three of you are dead.”

The trio stayed silent at that, their faces slowly forming winces as they processed the information. The only one to voice anything was Shielder, who just muttered, “I feel like we should go back to the hotel.”

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Rider burst out in laughter, holding his stomach as he rocked in his chair, nearly tumbling out of it as he tried to stay in his seat. Slamming a hand on the table (and almost breaking it), the Macedonian (loudly) remarked, “You didn’t even know!?”

“Stop hollering, you buffon!” Caster hissed, a light hue of red across her face as she grit her teeth in embarrassment. “This idiot gave us all a wild time last night and none of us got to properly rest; I didn’t even hear of a meeting at the Church!”

She paused her anger, noticing the way the other occupants of the table turned to stare at her, even her own ‘team’. Rider looked interested, the little mage had a mix of incredulous disbelief and envy, while her teammates just stared at her blankly. “What?”

Jaune, Jaune Arc of all people, raised an eyebrow and asked her, “Do you honestly not realize what you just said implies?”

She took a moment to replay her own words inside her head, before she flinched as realization. She turned away from them all, hiding her lower face behind her fingers. Though they all heard her quiet ‘Uhh...’

“Oi.” Jaune’s eyes narrowed at that, a little offended as he flicked the back of the Caster’s head. When she turned back to him, red faced and glaring his way, but avoiding his eyes, he just said, “You could have held that back.”

“Hahahahahahaha!” Rider laughed loudly once more, this time not even drawing any heads as the customers had quickly become inured to the loud foreigner. Grinning, he held back his snickers as he looked towards the other Master, “Looks like you have been having a lot of fun with your partners, hey, Jaune?”

“Oh, get off my back, will ya?” Jaune answered, ducking his head in embarrassment. With a pout on his face, which had gone completely red at this point, seemed much more approachable now. More… normal. “Being made fun of wasn’t the reason I brought us all here.”

That brought everyone’s attention back to the man, even his own Servants, who hadn’t known the reason why they were all here. They all leaned in, Rider having a cocky smirk on his face as if he had been expecting this.

Though they leaned back when the man bowed his head towards the Macedonian. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Huh?” Everyone else blurted out.

“I was, sort of a dick when we first met, and I wasn’t much better when we saw each other at the docks.” The blonde scratched the back of his hair, still bowed towards the stunned Rider. Caster looked confused at the act, but Pretender just shook her head, amused. “I was way too aggressive, especially since you hadn’t done anything to deserve that. Sorry for all that.”

Rider leaned back on his seat; his face focused as he stared at the other man. After a while, he just nodded and said, “Yep. You’re definitely a weird guy.”

When they all looked at him, Rider explained, “We’re enemies in the Holy Grail War, with only one of us having the chance to obtain the Holy Grail’s wish, and yet, you’re polite to the point of asking me for my forgiveness. You just don’t do that in a war.”

Surprisingly, Shielder was the only one to contest those words, though he did it by snorting. Picking up his cup and bringing it to his lips, he said, “This isn’t a war.”

He stared at the opposing duo, sharp blue eyes, now lacking their usual luster, piercing their souls. “You’ve seen war, haven’t you, Alexander? What it really is.”

“I have.” Rider easily said, perking up as he began monologuing with gusto. "While entering battle with so many figures of history, heroes of unfathomable renown and strength, is glorious in its own way, I have to admit I prefer the grand clashes of armies and generals that happen in a battlefield.”

“The strength of your soldiers clashing against the enemy’s army, the convoluted strategies that fly all over as leaders do their best to ensure their own victory, the rush of it all!” Rider rattled off the things he found the best about the subject, going into detail over every little thing. But the darkening expression forming on Shielder’s face showed his own thoughts. “Such grand display that come from conquering and it’s journey, it is simply irreplaceable!”

The knight out of time glanced down to his cup, setting it down as he muttered, “… Maybe it was good luck for both of us that I didn’t summon you.”

Waver blinked when he heard that. He thought someone as strong as Shielder would have appreciated the same things as Rider. The small Master gripped his knees, his hands unconsciously tightening around his pants’ fabric as he bristled. He couldn’t stop himself from demanding, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blue eyes moved towards him, staring deep into his own. Before Waver could become tense (or even more so than he already was), the blonde let out a quick chuckle with a smile on his face, muttering, “Nothing, kid.”

With the food eaten and the bill paid (with a hefty tip, despite the owner’s protest), the two teams went their separate ways, neither wishing good luck for the other knowing that it would mean bad for themselves. Though Rider and Shielder did shake hands at the end, despite the latter’s final words.

As the two made their way ho- to the Mackenze residence, Waver kicked his feet on the floor, frowning as his mind chided him for the childish display. He wasn’t a kid.

Suddenly turning around, Rider set his closed fists on his hips, a wide smile adorning his face as he jovially asked, “Why are you so quiet?”

Waver looked away, thinking that he should just avoid the question “What Shielder said… It pissed me off for some reason.”

“I mean, look at you.” He suddenly spat out, not meaning to insult Rider, but feeling anger on the Servant’s behalf. “You could’ve taken him and his Servant out on the first night, so how come he’s lucky he didn’t summon you? With the two of you together, the whole War would be over by now!”

He didn’t notice that he started ranting, his incensed words inflamed by anger and frustration. He tried to understand the other man’s point, but the bastard just didn’t have any. Archer could fire a thousand Noble Phantasms? Rider could mow him down before the first shot. Lancer was the King of Britain? Rider had conquered nations.

Just as he prepared to dive into another tangent, Rider grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. When Waver looked up, his wide eyes turned flat as he saw his Servant snickering, barely able to hold himself back from bursting into laughter again. One of the boy’s eyes began twitching.

“Boy-skrn- he- he wasn’t doubting my strength. Hehe.” Rider explained between snorts and barks of laughter. Seeing Waver tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at that, the Macedonian continued, “The reason he said that is simpler than that. He just knew we wouldn’t get along. Our ideologies differ too much.”

That was just more confusing. What type of stupid Magus wouldn’t put their differences with their Servant aside for the sake of the War? “What do you mean?”

Leaning back and once more taking his confidence-filled pose, Rider grinned and said, “He is a man who despises fighting. The very act of taking another person’s life is one that shatters the very foundations of his worldview. And so, he came to despise the notion of fighting other humans, likely only doing it when he has no other choice.”

“For a man like him, having me as a Servant would be a nightmare.” Rider looked up at the skies above, a myriad stars shining beside the crescent moon. For some reason, Rider’s smile got bigger. “For as much as I feel we would get along greatly if we were both born in this modern world, the fact I am a conqueror before I am a Servant would have us coming to blows. Likely literally.”

Waver looked at his Servant with some confusion, though there was a dawning understanding in him now. Someone who despises killing wouldn’t get along with a man called the King of Conquerors. Though something else caught his attention.

“How do you know so much about him? Could you really tell that much about him, just in that meeting?”

“I read about it.”

…

“…What?”

In response, Rider smiled smugly, bringing up their shopping bag and rummaging in it for a scant few seconds before pulling out a rectangular object. Waver stared at it flatly.

“Rider, that’s a game console.”

“Oh, crap.” The Great Alexander The Third quickly put the console back in the bag, this time actually looking for what he wanted before taking it out and showing it to his Master, who took it with hesitant hands. “Here, the thing I wanted to show you, and the reason I wanted to meet with Jaune Arc.”

It was a comic book, though Waver thought the people in this country called it something else. It was relatively thick, at least a few dozen pages by the looks of it, but nothing compared to the textbooks of endless rambling of the Clock Tower. It looked like another superhero thing, though taking into account the two girls and one boy, he wasn’t confident on the quality.

The title read; “Knight of Love. -by Blake D’Arc.”

“I saw it back in the library and got curious about it.” Rider explained when he was met with a flat stare. “After checking the covers, however, I decided to get a many as I could.”

“Why? This looks like some trashy romance novel. What’s so important about it?”

“Take a look at the cover. That’s the first volume I’ve given you.” Rider pretty much ordered, but Waver followed it anyway, to sate his curiosity.

It’s cover was admittedly a little impressive, the attention to detail on the back ground jumping out at him despite some panels being rather small. Various phantasmal beasts, from what looked like a grey-skinned, furred monkey monster with three eyes making a triangle on his head, to a scaled dragon with wings so big they didn’t fit in the cover, the inside of which showed off characters that looked like some type of ancient warriors and other that just looked like cultists.

They had bone masks and everything.

Beneath the pinnacle of phantasmal beast and at the forefront of the image were three characters, a blonde girl with muscles and chest bigger than any he seen before and eyes that cleverly glowed in the light, a black haired girl with strangely pale skin and golden eyes and a lighting spell sparking off in her hands, and another blonde, a lean boy tightly holding to a shield and covering a little of the girls with his heater shield… which looked bizarrely famil-

Realization hit him like a freight train. “That’s Shielder and Pretender! But how!?”

“How indeed.” Rider rubbed his jaw, his smile showing why the book had caught his interest. “I thought it a coincidence at first, especially considering that I had only seen Jaune Arc before, but after I saw the latest volume-” Rider rummaged in the bag for a bit before bringing out another volume- “There was no doubt in my mind.”

And in the cover of that one, a group of four people stood side by side, a brown haired man in clearly high-quality armor for the time, likely a knight of some renown. To the other side of him was a man of white; white hair, clothes, accessories, and what looked like various flowers growing at his feet. The staff he carried in his hands clearly showed him as some kind of wizard.

In between the two were the rest of the ensemble, a now older Jaune Arc, sporting a red, almost futuristic breastplate and boots and gauntlets. His straighter posture and the hold he had on his weapons, the same shield but a different, heavier looking rust-yellow sword to the side, showed he’s difference from the earlier volume. Time did him well, a flicker of jealousy tightening Waver’s chest.

He got pulled out of that when seeing the last figure, a feminine, short boy with basic armor and an extravagant sword in his hands, looking up at the older blonde with admiration and awe. “This one… sort of looks like Lancer.”

“Not just looks.” Rider suddenly said. Taking the book, he flipped the cover and showed Waver the images of the various characters. “The start of the books has the character names listed off along with very short biographies. And look at the names on the first volume and the latest.”

“Jaune Arc, Yang Xiao-Long, Artoria Pendragon… This comic book is telling all of Shielder’s history…” Waver whispered in both awe and despair, before despair quickly won out and had him yelling, “But how!? These things can’t possibly be true! He would have to be a Magician to pull off interdimensional travel!”

“I don’t exactly know, but we do have a way to find out.” “Come now, boy! We shall spend the rest of this night studying these texts!”

“All right.” Waver sighed, but still pointing out that he wanted to go to the Miyama River first to get some samples. As they walked off, the young magus froze as he realized something, calling out to his Servant, “Wait.”

When Rider looked back, Waver hit him with the fiercest glare he could, not realizing that he just looked like a deer in the headlights. “How much did all of this cost?”

Getting back a crumpled wallet that had literally not a single paper of money in it sent the young- now irreparably broke- magus screaming to the skies.

“RIIIDEEER!!!!”

In one of Fuyuki City’s many hotels, one that was more middle of the road compared to the now closed Hyatt Hotel, there was much action going on. With the Hyatt out of commission, many of its renters had to go into other hotels, and the sudden influx made it so every hotel in the city was overstuffed. People filled the halls as they tried to find somewhere to stay until the repairs and investigations on the Hyatt finished.

After weaseling her way through the crowded reception room, the woman of dark skin, green eyes and blonde hair, dressed in a white jacket and dress combo, the former of which covered her mouth, sighed in frustration. She should have gotten back in her gigai after she gotten inside the room.

Knocking on the door in the specific rhythm that she was used to using for the past week, she waited for the answer from inside to let her in. After she gotten it, she swiped her card against the door and pulled down the handle and waited for the door to explode back into her.

It happened once.

When nothing happened, she pushed the door open and entered the apartment, its white, yellow-light tinted walls the first thing to greet her. She walked further in, dropping her shoes off in the entrance, and coming upon the sight of her ‘charge’ sitting cross-legged in front of her desk, a pencil tapping away at her chin.

Now out of the restrictive suit with which she arrived in the city with, the young girl of dyed yellow hair, whose black roots were again showing, now sported a causal outfit. A simple, comfortable white shirt that covered her torso, and jean short lined with cotton, that inadvertently showed off her long legs. She wore no footwear, but a pair of pink sandals were thrown at the floor beside her.

The girl turned her head to look at the newly-arrived ‘bodyguard’, a flicker of disappointment flickering across her face as she saw the older woman was alone. But she hid it well, rising from the chair and giving her fellow blonde a warm smile. “Welcome back, Tier.”

The former Vasto Lorde Hollow returned the greeting with a wave, “Thanks, Jeanne.”

Harribel turned her head, looking around the room and arched a brow when seeing it empty aside from Jeanne. It was an unusual sight, ever since they met up with him after their arrival in Fuyuki. She turned to the girl and asked, “Where’s the boy?”

“In the bathroom.” Now that the French girl mentioned it, she could hear she sound of sloshing water coming from the bathroom. It was a pain hearing a thousand things a second with her keen shark senses, so she kept them on the back when inside the room. “He says he like the feeling of water around him.”

“Hm. Well, we’ll have to make sure he learns about what I’m about to tell you.”

The blonde girl started at the sudden shift to a more serious tone but she quick to pick up a filled bottle of water and unscrewed the cap, leaving the bottle itself on top of the dining table. She then brought out two chairs and set them before the dining table, gesturing for Harribel to sit on one while she took the other.

After the Hollow did so, she began her report, all that she had seen had happened last night, from the aftermath of the five Servants’ battle on the docks and the latter’s utter destruction by what she could safely assume was an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm. After that, the meeting in the Church for the announcement of a truce among the Masters that would hold until the death of Caster and her Master, along with the second Servant they supposedly summoned and the killings they were accused of.

Leaning back on her seat with crossed arms, Harribel closed her eyes and finished, “And that covers the Church’s emergency meeting of last night.”

“That’s concerning.” Jeanne gnawed at her nail, anger writ across her face. “There’s a Master out there that summoned two Servants, likely with the blood of the victims, and the price on their head is quite high. Do you think…?”

“I highly doubt that it’s him.” Harribel opened her eyes as she answered, one hand slapping at the air as if to throw the very notion out of the equation. “I may not have known the boy for long, but I know that he would never allow for his Master to do what the Church has accused them of doing. It’s much more likely that he is the Saber Servant than Caster’s newfound partner.”

“Hmm.” Jeanne nodded as her eyes lowered, her mind pondering on what little information they had. Soon, her eyes locking on the water bottle, she asked, “What do you think, Merlin, Vivian?”

From the bottle earlier left uncapped, a tendril of water rose up and snaked its way onto the floor, forming a small puddle from which a delicate hand rose up first before the rest of the arm and body followed, giving way for a beautiful woman with long white hair flowing down like a waterfall and reaching her hips. Her slim body was covered by a white dress adorned with blue and yellow frills at the neck, and a blue sash was draped over her shoulders and flowed unnaturally in the air. Her bright green eyes washed over the two before quickly glancing to the side where she heard water being drained.

As the Lade of the Lake finished her materialization in the room, the Magus of Flowers Forever trapped in Paradise spoke, “I agree with Ms. Harribel. It’s utterly impossible for the Knight of Compassion to ever allow such a thing to happen if he could stop it. Ha, I bet he’s doing everything he can to find the real culprit and take them down on his own.”

“Hmm, yes, it is easy to imagine him going to such lengths.” Vivian agreed with a laugh, the sound of her voice refreshing like clear rain in a hot summer’s day. Her hand rose to cover her mouth, a reminiscent smile playing on her lips. “That’s just the kind of knight Sir Jaune Arc is. Hopefully, whoever his Master is has realized that keeping him from such a quest is nigh impossible.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Came a sudden interruption from the only other man in their group. They turned to see him with his tanned body covered by a fluffy white gown and a towel draped over his head, still scrubbing away at his wet hair. One hand raised up the long, white and yellow lashes and let his green eye stare at them and their raised eyebrows.

“What if we’re looking at the wrong group?” He proposed, making the women in the room and the half-incubus in Avalon blink in stupor. “The contract said he was to be banished through time and space, correct? Then what if he isn’t a Servant?”

The four paused to consider the possibility. While it was more likely than he had been pulled to the Holy Grail War as a Servant due to his fame and power catching the attention of any magus worth their salt, there was the infinitely small chance that Morgan Geas had just coincidentally thrown him in the perfect spot to become a Master…

Three of them, Blake Jeanne D’Arc, who spent months with the man hearing his stories, Merlin, who lived with him for two years and a half, and Harribel, who learned everything she did from the account of the two, all came to the same conclusion.

“He’s the Master of Caster.” The three groaned out, the two women slumping on their seats and gripping their heads with frustration clear on their faces.

The young man blinked. “Well, that was swift. Any reason?”

The fairy of waters who gave out Excalibur, Galatine and Arondight turned to the young man with a flat look on her face, explaining, “Because knowing that young man’s luck and his propensity for getting in trouble everywhere he goes, this is completely normal.”

It was at the beginning of the night when they returned to the Einzbern Mansion, the couple smiling kindly to each other as Kiritsugu helped Iri out of their car, holding her hand gently as she acted like a prim lady, taking her time for each step.

She did smirk when she noticed his wobbling legs. She still scared him with her driving ‘skills.’

The two walked towards the entrance, Irisviel still animatedly chatting, but Kiritsugu still chipped in from time to time, until they noticed Maiya standing at the front entrance.

While to any other she would have seemed impassive, Kiritsugu could see the worry in her posture, the way she was tapping her right foot and her eyes darting all around. They locked onto his the moment she saw him.

Pushing off the supporting pillar she had been leaning against, the mercenary approached them with a hurried stride. Kiritsugu steeled himself, his smile disappearing, even as he sighed internally. Good things never last, huh?

Irisviel stayed by his side as Maiya reached them, the latter acknowledging the Einzbern with a respectful, if hurried, nod. She looked back to Kiritsugu, quickly checking him for injuries before she said, “We have what may become a problem.”

Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow at the vagueness but gestured for her to elaborate, the three now making their way inside the manor. “Half an hour after Lancer and I returned, around sixteen-hundred thirty-two hours, we received a message delivered by a familiar. A hawk, to be specific.”

“El-Melloi.” Kiritsugu confidently said, knowing the type of familiar the Lord of the Clock Tower tended to use. The fact he sent a familiar means he’s not interested in a fight. Otherwise, he would have just attacked when he had the opportunity. Turning his head back to Maiya, he asked, “What did the message say?”

From her pants front pocket, Maiya took out a folded piece of paper, previously sealed with a wax seal of the El-Melloi’s family’s symbol. Even as she handed it over to him, she recited the message from memory, “To the Mage Killer Kiritsugu Emiya. I, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi, Lord of Mineralogy of The Clock Tower, request that you personally enter contact with my esteemed self through the usage of this telephone number. I must enquire with you over the situation with the Master of Caster and his duo of Servants.”

The message ended there. So, the two Servants thing was true. Summoning two Servants should be impossible, especially so powerful ones. But I guess someone like him can do it. Reading the number on the end of the letter, he took the burner phone Maiya had provided him and thumbed the number, but he waited to call it.

He could imagine what Kayneth wanted to talk about. And he knew Lancer would flip if she found out.

Taking to the Castle’s balcony, Kiritsugu looked around to see if Lancer was anywhere near. His Servant couldn’t take to Spirit Form, but she could still try to sneak around and find out about the message. Iri said she would try to distract the Servant with their outing, basically gossiping about it with her.

That gave him ample time to make his call.

He tried two times, Kayneth not picking up even when the calls fell out of their time limit. He sighed as he knew that this wasn’t because of the bad reception on the Einzbern Castle (though that was a factor). No, Kayneth was just playing a game with him to make Kiritsugu look desperate, and not the other way around.

Just as Kiritsugu’s patience nearly ran out, Kayneth finally accepted the call.

“Kiritsugu Emiya.” Came the smarmy voice from the other end of the line.

“Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi.”

“It is good that you decided to call. I was beginning to think you were doubtful of my letter. I assure you that it entails a matter of great importance.”

“The Master of Caster.”

“Yes. Shielder, as he is called.” His voice dripped with smugness, making Kiritsugu narrow his eyes. That kind of arrogance was unusual. Almost like El-Melloi knew something no one else did. “As you undoubtedly learned from the Holy Church’s Overseer last night, and from your little attempt at the hotel, Caster’s Master has summoned two Servants. A literal impossibility for the modern world, yet one that has still happened before us.”

“Hm. That is going to be problem for everyone, you included.” The Mage Killer responded. His brow furrowed, before he decided to skip the formalities and get straight to the point. “So, it’s safe to assume… that you want me to help in taking him out.”

“An alliance for the time being.” Kayneth was quick to say. He didn’t want to seem as if he needed help. “With my particular position with the Master of Caster and your expertise in assassinating various magi, it should be no issue for us to formulate a plan to deal with him after we see his abilities a little… closer.”

The Magus Killer’s eyes narrowed at the pause, his mind quickly analysing the statement and the nobleman’s actions tonight, before he found the text between the lines. “You’re going to bring him here.”

“Caster’s Master is a powerful man with a powerful duo of Servants. It is only natural for us to use any opportunity to study his strengths and weaknesses.”

“And you want to use my base as that opportunity.” Kiritsugu frowned, annoyed but how much this arrogant mage was trying to force on him. But pride “Very well. It will be good to know the extent of his skills. But there is another matter to consider.”

Kayneth didn’t need to be a Master in Divination to know what he was talking about. “Tohsaka Tokiomi’s Servant. Archer.”

“Shielder’s ability, whatever it is, is the perfect counter to Archers Noble Phantasm, and that’s without Caster and the other Servant getting in the middle. With all three, there a good chance that they could defeat Archer, the biggest threat in the entire Grail War.”

Biggest threat to everyone but Kiritsugu. To him, Kirei Kotomine would remain in that spot no matter what changed.

“Then we will take this chance only to study him and nothing more.” Kayneth reasonably agreed, though Kiritsugu could hear paper being scratched with a pen. Seems someone was changing their plans. “Soon, in a time of three to four hours, I shall send a message to Caster and her Master telling them of an ‘assault’ I have begun to carry out on the Einzbern Master. He will come running soon enough.”

“You have that much trust in him,” Kiritsugu didn’t stop himself from asking, perplexed by the man’s almost unending arrogance, “to know he’s going to come for certain?”

“It is not trust. But experience.” Kayneth responded, his tone now terribly amused. It soon became clear why. “It seems to me that the Einzberns made some sort of transgression upon him that he seeks to answer in kind. Most likely with the homunculus.”

Kiritsugu’s grip on the suddenly tightened, small cracks forming along it as he subconsciously used Reinforcement. Every instinct in him suddenly ignited, his mind vowing, He will not touch her.

Returning to the machine that was the Magus Killer, after a deep breath, Kiritsugu said to the nobleman, “Very well, Kayneth. I’ll be waiting.”

Kiritsugu hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, to be disposed of later. He turned back to the entrance to the manor’s hallways, Maiya obediently waiting there with a worried expression. He made his way to her, already thinking up plans and contingencies in his head for the night and for the future.

But right now, all he had to do was prepare.

“We have a problem.”

Those really weren’t the words that Jaune wanted to hear right after getting back to the hotel they had been staying at, their shopping bags still hanging from his arms as he and Morgan stared at a suddenly fuming Yang.

Morgan crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side, clear annoyance showing on her face as she turned to the other Servant. Her eyes glared as she asked, “What could it possibly be?”

“Kayneth.” Yang responded harshly, a frown on her face as she crumpled a piece of paper in her hands, glaring straight down at it like it had offended her entire family (though he imagined she would join anyone in insulting her blood-mother.) As she threw away the paper, she snarled, “Pretty boy left us a message; that idiot Master of his is off to attack the Einzbern’s base!”

“What-!?” Jaune squawked, the bags in his arms jumping as he threw his arms up. There was frustration but mostly confusion on his face as his brain failed to process the stupidity the other Master went with. “But our terms-!?”

“Calm down, Arc.” Morgan called out, laying her hands on his shoulders and pushing his heightened emotions down with a practiced spell. Sighing like an irritated mother, she said, “It is very likely that animal thought we meant to face and kill the Einzbern Master, after our meeting. I doubt the idea of us needing them alive has even gone through his head.”

“Well, that’s all and good, but they’re still attacking them.” Jaune slipped out of Morgan’s hold as gently as he could, he turned to set down his own bags and began looking for the place the two had stashed away his cloak, sternly saying, “Go get ready; we’re leaving as soon as possible.”

While Yang just nodded and began setting aside her purchases and going off to fetch Balmung, Morgan turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a confused tone, “Why? Artoria is more than capable enough to handle Saber.”

“It’s not Diarmuid I’m worried about.” He said seriously, taking his cloak Mystic Code from the dresser and putting it over his shoulders, not even thinking if someone outside would see him. As he did, he continued explaining, “He left a message for us as a warning of the attack. I doubt Kayneth hasn’t relayed the same message to the other Masters.”

She hummed, taking a minute to consider the idea and coming to a rather predictable conclusion. “Ugh. He probably wants to use this as an opportunity to study you and us to make plans to defeat us later.” She slapped a hand against her forehead groaning, “That stupid snake!”

Not what I was thinking, but let’s go with that . Pushing his legs, he made his way to the rooftop of the hotel they were staying at, knowing that his sword and shield would best be hidden up there. As he made to leave, he made sure to tell them, “I’m going to get my stuff. Wait for me at an alley close-by and then we’ll go to the Einzbern base. It should be in the message.”

As he walked in the deserted hallway, he let out a quiet mutter, almost like a prayer, “I won’t fail you like I did your father. I’ll be there for you, Artoria.”

After checking the church to make sure his father was nowhere to be seen and would therefore not notice his absence. Only then did Kirei Kotomine slip away to the night.

Assassin had confirmed that Kayneth El-Melloi was moving to attack the Einzbern Castle. And with Lancer busy fighting Saber, he would have a perfect chance to face Kiritsugu Emiya.

Agravain’s armada followed him tightly behind, the Servant himself watching from far away. He thought that tonight would be another waste of time with Kotomine’s obsession, but he would put up with it if it put him closer to the Grail.

Before he could begin to follow his Hounds, a hand slapped against his broken breastplate. He looked to the side, seeing a mop of blonde hair atop a predatory smile and perpetually closed eyes.

“Ladre.” Agravain acknowledged the man, not attacking him on sight because he knew the consequences of trying that. He looked down to his chest, his hand instinctually grasping the cold metal handle that fell onto his palm after Ladre let go. “This is?”

“A gift.” The man casually said, as if a broken sword with an open-mouthed skull for a guard with horns coming out of the eyes and a human skeleton design connecting the shattered blade to the handle could ever be considered a thoughtful gift. Though, this was the Holy Grail War, so maybe it did fit. Agravain couldn’t even question Ladre about it, as he was already moving away, with a whispered, “You will know who to stab with it when you see him.”

The despicable mystery man turned back to Agravain, his smirk ever wide and a hand raised in a wave. “Nighty night, traitor knight.”

He soon disappeared the same as he did last night. Even as a Servant, Agravain found no trace of the man’s magical energy. The Servant’s eyes narrowed at the broken sword in his hands, before he stashed it away on his armor. How unusual. He felt like he might need it.

I shall know who to stab with this when I see him, huh? Then I shall put your divination to the test, Votos Ladre.

Blue eyes watched the ticking clock of a silver pocket watch, the time showing 23:26 PM. The top slammed down, closing the watch. A grinning face rose to look at the full moon hanging in the sky, closed eyes that somehow perceived it all, glinting in amusement.

“Assassin will be in charge of unlocking the Knight of Compassion's Noble Phantasm.” He muttered to the empty air. “You just need to keep the pressure off his back.”

The wind billowed past him as a large figure in broken armor and tattered cloth ran faster than the very wind. She hadn't deployed either her lance or her sword, but to deal with Diarmuid and Artoria, she would require them and all her skill.

"You sure this is the best of ideas?" Kariya Matou asked, ways behind the man in the yellow raincoat. He stood tall, no longer gripping his arm in pain or shambling due to an unresponsive leg. "What about his Servants? They could still interfere."

"Now, now, you didn't actually think I hadn't planned for them, did you?" Votos Ladre responded, his eyes still closed and his grin wide as he turned back to Kariya.

Behind him, two figures suddenly appeared, one that Kariya had met and another, a young girl with a white mask, that wore a matching raincoat with Ladre and the white haired gun-woman.

Far away and out of Kariya's sight, a red-hooded man with a knife in hand and his body covered by gray armor and a regal woman with red eyes and a luxurious dress stared back at Ladre.

His grin grew at the sight. He turned away, back to the forest taht would soon be stage for numerous battles, some that would decide the very future of this miserable world.

Lowering his voice till it was naught but air on the wind, the Man in the Yellow Raincoat sweetly whispered, “Now, it’s time for the world to see you again.”

“Beast of Humanity.”

Chapter Text

Now with the moon high up in the sky and the silent permit for the Holy Grail War to continue, along with Kayneth’s warning of his plan, the Einzbern team had prepared itself as best as it could.

By now, Maiya should be doing a last-minute check-up on their surveillance equipment and explosive traps set around and inside the mansion. The more traps and the more varied they were, the better chances they would have of analyzing the Master of Caster’s tactics and fighting styles. While they needed him to deal with Archer, he would still be an enemy at the end of the day.

Silently, Kiritsugu leaned on the walls of the Einzbern Castle, looking over the forest that would soon be filled with enemy Masters and Servants. His foot nervously tapped on the stone, his fingers gripping his arms so tightly they hurt. His mind, plagued with despair.

That was how Irisviel found him.

She looked at him with caring eyes, filled with worry for her dear husband whom taught her everything she knew of the world. He looked exhausted, his face marred by a deep frown as he glared at the night sky.

“If…” He suddenly began when she approached, before hesitating. Bowing his head and looking down at his crossed arms, he tried again, “If I… If I decided to throw all this away and run at this moment…” He straightened his back, eyes still glaring ahead as he asked, “Would you come with me, Iri?”

Irisviel stepped back in shock, never imagining that such words could come out of Kiritsugu’s mouth. “What about Illya? She’s still in the castle?”

“I would go back for her, killing anyone who got in my way. And then…” He grit his teeth, his desperation rebelling against his own words. Pushing through, he promised a false oath. “I would devote all of me to you and her!”

“Can we really run away?” She asked. A part of Irisviel wanted to go along with the idea, to spend the rest of her life with her husband and daughter, but she was worried. The Holy Grail War wasn’t something they could easily get away from, and evne if they did, Kiritsugu would…

“WE CAN! If we go now, we still can!” He cried out, visibly breaking down, nearly begging Irisviel to agree with the insanity that spewed out of his mouth. He needed her to believe in that lie, to leave with him so they could forget this damned destiny. Because he couldn’t believe in it, because he knew it was a lie.

“Liar.” Irisviel called him out, her voice soft as her arms circled his body and wound around his chest. With her eyes closed in grief, Irisviel leaned her head on her husband’s back, saying, “You know that’s a lie. You would never run away. You would never abandon a chance for the Grail and fail to save all the world.”

“You would judge and despise yourself forever…” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, the homunculus holding them so she could speak clearly to the man she loved. “And you would take your own life.”

Kiritsugu listened intently to her words, acknowledging the truth in them, despite wanting nothing more than to deny them.

“Kotomine Kirei…” Kiritsugu uttered the name, shuddering in her arms at the mere mention of the executor. “He scares me. He’s after me, I can tell. Maiya made it clear; even with Shielder’s Servants right there, all he did as try to capture her. He used Kayneth as bait, he anticipated my actions… He wanted me...”

“And Shielder…” Kiritsugu swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering the distorted vision he had after his encounter with the vigilante. His hands still shook, his heart still hurt, when he remembered that question. “He could probably fight the whole Holy Grail War on his own, and still went and summoned two Servants!”

“I already have to sacrifice you, and I had to leave Illya behind…” His voice was laden with hurt as he despaired over the seemingly insurmountable challenge in front of him. All his years as the Magus Killer meant nothing in front of those monsters. “And the most dangerous of them decided to hunt me! The two I wanted to fight the least!”

The couple stayed in silence for a long moment, taking their time to breathe deeply and adjust to the sudden feelings that gripped their hearts. The fear and despair, emotions that Emiya Kiritsugu thought had been long buried during his time as the Magus Killer, assailed him relentlessly, despite how much he believed he could return to the unfeeling machine he once was.

But after having Irisviel and Illya in his life for so long? He wasn’t as steadfast as he thought.

“I won’t let you fight alone.” Irisviel suddenly promised, trying her best to invigorate her lover. “I’ll protect you. Lancer will protect you. And…” She hesitated as she thought of the other woman that shared in Kiritsugu’s attention, but she put up with it for his sake. “And you have Maiya as well.”

She had hoped fate would allow them some more time to keep their minds off of the turmoil of the war, but it seemed their reprieve was over for tonight.

A sharp pain suddenly laced it’s way through Irisviel, making her gasp. It was the alarm they had set up in case of intruders, and the reason it happened now was obvious. “Kiritsugu!”

“Saber and Kayneth, right?” Kiritsugu asked, relief dripping from his voice. She understood why, even if she hated the emptiness of his eyes when he turned around to face her. In battle, Kiritsugu could bury his emotions.

With a hollow gaze, the Magus Killer asked her a favor. “Iri, please prepare a crystal ball for remote viewing.”

Steeled boots hammered down on the dirt path of the forest, crunching leaves and bushes beneath them as the blonde woman rushed towards her opponent. Artoria was well aware of Saber’s alliance with Shielder, both men likely to come and meet her in battle. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that Morgan and this unknown extra Servant wouldn’t ambush her the moment they could find an opening, but even then she didn’t worry. Saber’s honor would demand that he fight her in a proper duel, and Shielder wasn’t the type of man to act so cowardly.

Skidding to a halt, Artoria smiled as she saw Saber standing opposite to her in a clearing that was clearly made recently, both Noble Phantasms already deployed and stabbed into the dirt as he waited for her.

He smiled when seeing her, raising a hand in greeting. “Hail, King of Knights.”

“Hail, Saber.” She returned with a nod, taking her lance and pointing it towards her opponent. Her eyes, instead of focusing on the Knight of Fianna, glanced around the clearing. “I see you are alone. No Caster or anyone to aid you in the battle? Are you looking down on me, Saber?”

Saber let out a small laugh, taking both swords in hand and loosening his arms. His smiling face responded, “Nothing of the sort, Lancer. While I do not doubt they’ll be soon arriving, Sir Shielder is a man of great honor, just as we are. When he’s here, I imagine he will likely attempt to stop our duel.”

She arched a brow at that. “The same as he did last time? What reason could such a man hold for standing between two enemy Servants to save their lives?” Her smile turned a little sly, asking of her fellow, “Speaking of… I doubt you will, but would you be so kind as to tell me Sir Shielder’s real name? You do know it, I hope.”

Saber shook his head, saying, “While I know his name, I hope you will find in yourself to forgive me for not sharing, Lancer. It would be a taint on my honor to reveal it when he wishes to remain hidden.”

“Well, worth the try, as they say.” Artoria shrugged. “And, being fair, I would be rather disappointed with you if you had told me, Saber. Good to know I wasn’t wrong about you.”

“That is great praise.” Saber laughed a little louder this time. Twirling his swords, he lowered his posture, his expression sharpening just a little. “But I believe we will have to cut our conversation short. We don’t have all the time in the world.”

“Before we do… Do you know just what our Masters are scheming?” When Saber averted his eyes and made to shrug, she interrupted, “Don’t act coy with me, Saber. The church made it clear we are to avoid hostilities until Caster’s team is dead, so why has your Master come here?”

Leaning back, Saber sighed, admitting, “Likely, my Lord intents on using this as an opportunity to study Sir Shielder. He is, after all, the strongest in the war.”

“And my Master’s associate is likely involved in the plan.” Artoria grumbled, already feeling a headache forming due to Kiritsugu’s constant underhandedness, though she kept to the act. Turning to Saber once more, she offered, “In the interest of saving us both the hassle of dealing with Command Spells, let us just play to their tune for now. We will deal with their presumptuousness at a later time.”

“As a knight, I am bound to following the King’s orders.” Saber answered cheekily, before he fell into his stance once more, Artoria doing the same before him. With a grin, he asked, “Ready, Lancer?”

She answered with a heft of her lance. “A long time ago, Saber.”

The two dashed towards each other, Holy Lance and Demonic Swords meeting in the night.

And among it’s shadows, the last wielder of Caesar’s will watched with bated breath.

Irisviel, watching the ensuing duel between the two knights, smiled at their banter. “Looks like the two already caught on to your plan, Kiritsugu.”

“So be it. As long as they bait Shielder into attacking either side, we’ll be in the right track.” The Magus Killer typed away at a white laptop he had set atop the table, pulling up the screens connected to the surveillance system of the mansion, Maiya looking over his shoulder. “More importantly, any sign of him or other Masters entering the forest?”

“Nothing yet.”

Still looking at the screens, The Magus Killer nodded, before speaking to the one beside him. “Maiya. Take Irisviel and get out of here. Go in the opposite direction of Saber and Lancer.”

Irisviel jumped up when hearing this, asking almost impatiently, “We’re leaving? But you already set the path Kayneth and Shielder will take, right?”

The plan had been hastily made because of how little time they had before Kayneth arrived with Shielder likely in tow, and relied on Kayneth leading Shielder into entering through the front entrance. With them as bait and Kayneth and the mansion as a trap, they would use the surveillance system to study Shielder’s magecraft and fighting style and create countermeasures. In case the vigilante brought his Servants with him, Kiritsugu would use a Command Seal to summon Lancer back, and her anger against Caster would make her go against the two Servants, bringing out Saber Lion in the process.

And with their shared Noble Phantasm, it would be easy enough to force the two to leave with their Master. With a little luck, either Caster or the Extra(as he taken to calling her) would die.

Kiritsugu nodded to Irisviel, acknowledging her point but still retorting, “Yes, but we can’t discount the chance of others out of the plan to take advantage of the situation, especially when Shielder gets here.”

In fact, he was counting on it. The obvious advantage Kayneth had on them that made this plan so dangerous for their side was the fact that Shielder was not their nominal ally. Even with the bounty, Kayneth and Shielder would need to fight together to keep up appearances and not lose face, otherwise risking problems for the future after the Grail War.

While he didn’t know enough about Shielder to know if he would throw that out of the wind and have Caster and Extra attack both Servants to get even closer to the Grail, he was willing to use a Command Seal to get Lancer out of there and back to the castle. That would buy him more time for the other Servants to get here and pile-drive Shielder, and might even let him take Kayneth as a hostage. He couldn’t feed two Servants with magical energy, but he could take Kayneth’s Command Seals.

He would just have to deal with Lancer’s glares after it.

“All right.” Irisviel said sadly, glancing down as she mulled over the mercenary’s words. Suddenly, she felt the same sharp pain as before, making her gasp, drawing the other’s attention to her. She saw the question in their eyes, the uneasiness in their eyes. Jumping to the point, she confirmed their thoughts, “It’s him.”

“Shielder’s here.”

Jaune’s feet quickly tore a path through the forest, his Mystic Code billowing behind him as he ran as fast as a car. His eyes glared ahead unflinchingly despite the winds that smacked against his face. Only his mouth was covered by the Mystic Code’s cowl.

Morgan had it easier, using her magecraft to essentially snowboard on the path with an ice platform that pushed her forwards. She had offered to do the same to him, but he needed to stay moving to keep his mind occupied.

He didn’t have a map of the place and getting here had taken long enough, well over two hours of running. He asked Morgan to teleport them, but she didn’t have the means to form enough water for the spell on her own, and the forecast told of a dry night.

Stopping for a second in order to catch his breath and calm his nerves, Jaune gripped a tree trunk next to him as Morgan stopped her spell and hopped off it. Yang materialized right beside him, offering to support him but he waved her off.

“I’m fine.” He said, a little out of breath. Weirdly so, considering he had run for longer back in the Capital Wasteland and his marathon from Utah to the Hoover Dam. “I think I’m a little out of form.”

“It must be the demonic energy’s influence on you.” Morgan said with a small frown, her face creased with concern. When he looked to her with some alarm, she explained, “It has weakened your Spirit Origin by a small factor; for as little of an effect it had on you, it likely lowered your limits. And let me remind you, you didn’t rest that long.”

He nodded at her words, even if half of them flew over his head. They still hadn’t explained what a Spirit Origin was to him, so he didn’t know how the Argent Energy affected it, but knowing how corruptive it was, he didn’t question them. He just needed to get rid of this and his problems would be solved.

“Just take some time to rest up.” Yang said, patting his shoulder and flashing him a quick grin. “Your Aura recovers like crazy, so just a few minutes ought to be good enough.”

“You could try using one of your Skills…” Morgan muttered.

“Huh?” Jaune turned to her, confusion obvious on his face as he stared at the Servant. “What Skills?”

Morgan blinked when he rounded on her, but soon composed herself. Resting her staff on her shoulder, she crossed her arms and said, “It was… an idea I had, some time ago. Your situation is complicated but technically speaking, you are a Servant, or something akin to one. You have Servant Skills and ‘Stats’, and your use of them, likely subconscious, is what allows you to stand on even ground with the Servants you have battled.”

“So, with these ‘Skills’, I could maybe recover faster?” He asked, a little confused since he never been summoned as a ‘Heroic Spirit’ before. Well, Arthur had summoned him, but he doubted it was the same spell, and he had been summoned as an advisor, not a figure of legend.

No way he was someone that important.

He didn’t notice the way his sword glowered at that thought.

“It might. What I have is a mere possibility, a theory. It will largely depend on what you have.” Morgan answered, a little uncertain but willing to try. “While it may be difficult for you to access it at this moment, since you obviously don’t know how to do it instinctively like we do, we may be able to guide you into using one of them that is useful now.”

Similarly to how it went with ‘Master’s Perspective’, huh? Took me some time to pull that one off. Still, he was curious why she was so certain he had Servant Skills, and asked for the reason.

Morgan’s left eyebrow began twitching. “Because you hit me with a Mana Burst.”

Jaune winced. Scratching the back of his head, he apologized, “Ah… Sorry.”

Fortunately for him, the three felt a surge of magical energy coming from deeper in the forest, the battle between the two Servants going strong at this point, it seemed. Jaune made to dash in the general direction of it, but was held back by Yang gripping his shoulder.

“I know I didn’t ask earlier, but what exactly is the plan here?” She asked when he turned to stare at her. Morgan moved closer, clearly interested in the answer. “We can’t just have you keep throwing yourself into danger at every chance, you know?”

Jaune paused, looking away from the two as he realized the simple fact he hadn’t made any plan despite the time it took for them to get here. He was quick to rectify his mistake, taking into account what he knew of the two with him and coming up with a safe idea for all of them.

“Yang, can you go look for Artoria and Diarmuid?” The girl in question blinked, both her and Morgan tilting their heads, asking for clarification. He was quick to provide, “I feel safer having Morgan close, and I know you can look after yourself in pretty much any situation, with all the powers you have. And even if I’m some sort of half-Servant, I’d probably need her support to fight whoever shows up and goes after their Masters.”

Yang spared a look for the Caster, before quickly looking back to him. Grinning she nodded. “I’m cool with it. I actually have a pretty good Skill to get me out of trouble fast, so me going on my own is the best.”

Yang let go of him, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright! Mo-mo, make sure to take good care of Vomit Boy, ‘kay? You saw how much of a danger magnet he is.”

Morgan nodded firmly, staring at him like he was some unruly child. “He is my Master. Nothing will get to harm him, even if the idiot jumps on it first.”

“Right.” Yang nodded back, darting off with a single sharp look towards Morgan.

“See you soon, Jaune!” She shouted, half-turned as she ran and waved to them. “And no funny business!”

Jaune scratched his head at that. “What she mean with that?”

Morgan looked at him with a raised eyebrow, the look on her face speaking of sudden interest in something. Deflecting, she asked, “You feel safer with me around?”

More like I feel like you won’t be safe on your own…

He thought he had kept that thought to himself, but it seemed that Morgan had heard it, her face quickly scouring as she turned away sharply, hitting his face with her long hair. “Hmph.”

Jaune sighed, before following after her.

Neither noticed the two figures that watched over them from the skies, nor how the taller of the two speed off in the direction Pretender had gone.

Casting his gaze upon the castle ahead of him, Kayneth would admit that the Einzberns had class, as expected of a lineage of Magi as ancient as theirs. Not only was the mansion something to behold for anyone’s eyes, the various, powerful Bounded Fields that surrounded the premises would have lesser magi throwing their entire fortunes to obtain the property.

In different circumstances, he would have loved the chance to study such powerful magecraft.

But, as he turned his head back to the deepest parts of the forest where he had lain a web of familiars that constantly shared their findings to him, he knew that their target for tonight had arrived, both Servants in tow. He had seen the girl split off from the group, one familiar already on the way to intercept and watch.

With the trio here, the plan was set in motion, and their abilities would be carefully registered and studied in this enormous rat cage.

He knew, however, that the chances of Jaune Arc simply stumbling here out of luck were minimal.

Drawing out the glass vial inside his coat that held his most valued accomplishment, he pulled out the cork on top and tilted the vial, the liquid mercury within dripping onto the floor. With a proud, certainly arrogant smile, he chanted, “Fervor, mei sanguis.”

The scattered droplets on the floor congealed into one larger mass, before it began expanding and swelling into a perfectly circular ball that rose to his waist. Volumen Hydrargyrum, the Supreme Mystic Code he had crafted in his earlier years, the pinnacle of his magecraft, stayed ready for his commands.

In less than a second after they reached the castles entrance, the large doors were obliterated by thin, almost invisible, threads of silver that slashed with unsurpassable speed. Rubble and dust exploded inwards of the castle, cluttering on the floor.

The entrance room was as expected from such grand a manor, the bottom floor featuring perfectly spaced statues poised beneath and before small lamps and larger chandeliers, casting the marble pieces perfectly in their light, and two tables holding expensive pottery and artwork. On the wall, mostly paintings of old, Greece and Rome being particularly present. Not unusual for a Magus’ home.

What was unusual was the surveillance camera on the wall turning to view him directly.

Just as I heard, no regard for true magi customs. Kayneth thought as he frowned at the piece of lowly technology. For as much as his whole being retched at being made to act alongside such a filthy rat, Kiritsugu Emiya’s reputation was too grand for him to simply ignore, especially with a beast such as Jaune Arc on the battlefield.

The Lord of Mineralogy didn’t bother wasting time with a spoken challenge, knowing a heathen like Kiritsugu Emiya would not care for one, and marched forwards, his posture straight and unbending, as someone of his station should hold.

His black leather shoes snagged on a thin wire placed just above the ground, snapping it. With the mechanism triggered, four busts exploded, showering the whole room in debris and tiny balls of metal, flying in such high speeds that any regular human or Magus would have been perforated by them.

When the dust settled, it revealed a perfectly spherical, silver ball in the middle of the wrecked room, the previous artwork now utterly destroyed. The mercury flowed down, revealing a frowning Kayneth, completely unscathed.

Internally, he admonished himself for not only falling from such an obvious trap but also wasting something that would have showed more information on Jaune Arc’s ability, if he had any to survive something like this. Though the rest of him seethed at the barbaric trap at a place that should have held anti-intruder magecraft.

Taking a quick breath to relieve his already frayed nerves, he continued his march, knowing that the noise would at least help in attracting Jaune Arc’s attention and directing him to the castle.

The night had only begun, after all.

Irisviel moved as quietly as she could through the forest, wincing and cringing at every tiny leave and branch that she broke with her pace. Kiritsugu had thought her many things, and for that she would always be grateful, but one thing he had never taught her was how to move stealthily.

“Please hurry, madame.” Compared to her, Maiya was a phantom; it made sense when remembering that this woman had worked with and been trained by Kiritsugu for years, ever since her younger years. It didn’t stop Irisviel huffing as she realized that the only reason she knew Maiya was that was because she was staring straight at the assassin the whole time.

She still held her concerns over leaving Kiritsugu on his own to deal with Shielder, but she trusted Lancer to keep him safe, even if the two held some animosity. It seemed to have been getting better, though…

No, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about this. Even if she wanted to be back with her love, she needed to go somewhere safe first. Not only was it his request, but her survival was needed for him to obtain his wish, and she wouldn’t fail him.

Just as she began following Maiya once more, she felt a sharp sensation deep in her Magical Circuits, an ache she had felt twice tonight already. She stumbled, and although she managed to keep herself from falling by steadying her body on a tree, she still caught Maiya’s attention. “madame?”

“Another intruder.” The homunculus responded, some slight alarm in her voice. She looked off in the direction she felt the sensation warn her of, a little confusion on her face. “Not far from here. We’ll run into them if we go in this direction.”

“Understood.” Maiya nodded. “Then we’ll circle by the north side-” The assassin paused as she saw the homunculus straining, almost if concentrating. “Madame?”

Irisviel did not immediately respond, busy focusing on her magecraft connected to this domain’s Bounded Fields. She had some limited clairvoyance in here, one that allowed her to sharpen her senses just enough to see the new intruder’s clothes, the golden cross hanging by his neck, the dull eyes…

Her expression sharpened as she finally had a clear view on the new attacker, seeing one of the nightmares that assailed her love in this war. “Kotomine Kirei.”

Just the utterance of the name was enough to make Maiya tense, the woman knowing fully well just what kind of threat the man paused from her reports with Kiritsugu and her own confrontation with the Executor.

Her grip on the Calico in her hands tightened almost imperceptibly, memories of her last encounter with Kotomine Kirei flashing through her mind. For as short as it had been, the few seconds of battle between them showed he was someone not to be trifled with. And it was likely his real target was Kiritsugu.

She couldn’t let that priest near him, but…

“Miss Maiya.” Irisviel’s sudden words caught her attention, her eyes looking back to the homunculus and seeing the sharp look on her face; the look of a woman ready to fight with all her forces and more. “You know what we need to do.”

Maiya leaned back from the sudden intensity the woman began emitting, biting her cheek as duty and reverence clashed with loyalty and determination. “Kiritsugu’s ordered me to protect you… but this-”

“But what? You were just thinking I can’t let man near Kiritsugu,’ weren’t you?” Once more, Irisviel made another surprising act, pushing on the matter instead of backing down. Even when she smiled, that resolve was still there. “On that we agree.”

“Kotomine Kirei. He’s probably the biggest threat to Kiritsugu, and right now, we have a chance to take care of him.” The noble approached the assassin, her smile fading back into a deadly serious expression, firmly asking, “Are you with me, Miss Maiya?”

The woman stared back at the homunculus, at the one who had taken Kiritsugu’s heart, his true affection and not the lie he had with her. She knew that his relation with her was just an attempt to alleviate his heart for when he lost Irisviel, and she held no delusions that she could have more than that.

And now, seeing that this woman was just as willing to put herself on the line to protect her beloved, where any would have expected envy to take place, Maiya could only feel relief. Kiritsugu had been very lucky to have someone like Irisviel to fall for him.

After pushing down the beginnings of a smile, Maiya sternly looked Irisviel in the eye, saying, “Apologies for asking this of you, but please, prepare yourself, madame.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Iri responded, watching over Maiya as she checked her guns. “Just concentrate on your duty; not what Kiritsugu told you to do, but what you believe is right.”

She easily recognized the mechanical efficiency of Maiya’s movements, fruit of Kiritsugu’s teachings. There was no place for hesitation or fumbling, only efficiency. A human made to act like a machine.

And her, a homunculus taught to be human. By the same man, too. The realization made her giggle.

Maiya blinked when she heard it, looking towards Irisviel. “Something wrong, madame?”

“No. Just thinking.” Irisviel lifted her head, an easy smile on her face despite the tension that coiled her body. “The human heart is such a mysterious little thing, isn’t it?”

Despite his relatively heavy jogging, his movement through the forest made little to no sound, something only possible to Kirei Kotomine due to his many years of combat and missions working for the Holy Church. He was, after all, one of their most talented Executors, and they made good use of his talents, honing them even further.

He imagined many people had been annoyed when he decided to work alongside his father in Fuyuki instead of continuing the career. But, just like with everything that he worked on in his accursed life, he had felt no need to continue with it, seeing as it brought him no closer to what he wanted.

Unlike this.

Assassin had managed to enter the Einzbern’s territory without being detected at least a day ago, only bringing the information forward a few hours ago. While he should have attempted to admonish the Servant for keeping such things to himself, he had instead just followed the former knight’s familiars as they showed him the best path to find his quarry and avoid the fight between Servants.

There was excitement in him, for the chance to meet Kiritsugu Emiya, a tenseness to his body that he had never felt even when fighting monsters and heretics. Knowing how the latter used to work, which Emiya certainly was, the man would be protecting the Einzbern Master. However, that was only in the case the false woman was the Master, and Kirei personally believed it Emiya’s trick to fool the other Masters, so the killer would more likely be watching over the battle at this moment.

It would fit from what little he learned of the man, and even Assassin admitted it was a valid tactic.

His musing were interrupted by a mental alarm, an ingrained instinct of his time and experience in battle. He stopped in his tracks, eyes carefully searching around him as he attempted to identify whatever opponent would face him. He was already moving the moment he heard the bark of a machine gun, dodging back and sending two Black Keys in the direction the bullets came from.

The Sacraments flew far, disappearing from his view quickly enough. At the same time, the little lights that appeared from the bullets immediately ceased, leaving him in complete silence aside from his confused breath. That had been… surprisingly quick.

The sound of firing bullets announced another volley, this time to his left, and he responded in flinging two more Black Keys that way. Just like earlier, the shooting stopped. His eyes narrowed as he failed to hear the sound of pierced flesh, instead picking out his Black Keys stabbing into a tree’s bark.

Bringing out two more of his blades and rising to full height, Kirei analyzed the situation as best he could. A quick one? No, the two attacks came from too far apart, so either two attackers… Confusion gave way to comprehension quickly enough. “Illusions.”

Suddenly, he was struck in the back by very real bullets this time, forcing him to the ground flat on his face.

Holding up the Calico M950, Maiya Hisau glared at the body of the priest as she jumped down from the trunk she had been perched at. There was little pride in her feints working, knowing the reputation of the Church’s special militia. With the gun trained on the still body, she approached with careful steps.

Irisviel, watching from the sidelines, managed to notice that something was wrong thanks to her heightened magical senses, and tried to shout out telepathically; “Miss Maiya, don’t-”

Too little, too late; a Black Key flashed, cutting Maiya’s shin and making the woman’s stance falter from the sudden pain. Suddenly having jumped up, Kirei approached with a quick run, arms crossed over his face and back bent forward.

Maiya quickly brought the Calico back up, firing directly into the Executor’s path and striking him directly numerous times, yet the bullets bounced off harmlessly. This close, the former child soldier could see the weavings of kevlar in his clothing. Realizing her firearm didn’t have the force to penetrate, she threw it to the ground and pulled out her serrated combat knife, meeting the Black Keys with a grunt.

The metal of their weapons kept bouncing off each other, every swing ending in flying sparks. Kirei barely reacted to the vibrations that rattled his arms, while the woman before him grunted and hissed with every contact, her wound leaking blood over the leaves beneath them. That simple injury cost her; at her peak she might have been a threat, but injured like this, it was easy work for the hollow priest.

Sliding her knife down the length of the Black Key in Kotomine’s left hand, Maiya tried for a swing at his eyes, but his right hand abandoned his weapon and slammed against her wrist, throwing her off and opening her guard to an elbow thrust that struck the flesh before her heart.

Bajiquan, the Chinese martial art that his father had spent years training him in, held many devastating techniques, and the one he had just performed could easily knock the wind out of anyone if done properly. And thanks to his unusual presence of Magical Circuits, his techniques were elevated to the point where he could easily hear the sound of ribs being utterly shattered.

Maiya’s scream got caught on her throat, spittle flying out of as her face morphed into pain. She never had the time to recover; Kotomine dragged her in and swept her off with a leg kick, throwing her to the ground. Her stepped on her already harmed chest for good measure, forcing blood out her mouth.

He watched the woman for a second with a frown on his face, the defeated beneath him squirming as she tried to breathe anything in, but her likely damaged lungs and his foot on top her chest made it near impossible.

Before he could even try to see if he felt anything over her state, he heard light footsteps approaching him, his eyes moving to the new interloper. To his surprise, it was the Einzbern homunculus, the one Tokiomi thought to be Lancer’s Master. Her glare sent directly to him made her feelings of him clear.

Kiritsugu Emiya is the Master of Lancer. He thought with certainty now. Otherwise, it would be the height of stupidity to come out here in the open and attack him, and the most obvious, most secure decision, would be to run away along with the bodyguard. He knew they had sought him out, their previously laid trap made that more than certain.

He decided not to waste anymore time with these two. He had already been here for long enough, and any second meant he could lose his chance tonight, even if he doubted Kayneth could kill the Magus Killer. Taking his foot off the woman beneath him, Kirei spoke in an even tone, “Woman, I do not know what you’re thinking, but you are not my target tonight.”

“I know that, Kotomine Kirei.” Her answer had him leaning back, confused over her lack of self-preservation. Though his brow soon drew down when she continued, “I know what you’re trying to do, and I won’t allow you. You will never encounter Kiritsugu Emiya.”

With a determined expression that sent him reeling with bafflement, she made her declaration. “We will stop you. Right here.”

“Madame!” Maiya began yelling, trying her best to make her charge realize the danger she was in, to make the woman who had Kiritsugu’s love leave this battle and survive. This wasn’t an enemy she could defeat! “He’s an Executor; a hunter of magi! Conventional magecraft won’t work on him!”

Irisviel pulled two silver threads from her clothes, holding one in each hand. As she poured mana into them, she said, “Kiritsugu taught me more than just driving a car.”

She had sworn herself to never be a burden for Kiritsugu to carry all the time; even when he pushed off the idea, she had still forced him to teach her how to fight, and her family was not helpless when it came to combat. This was the fruit of her efforts.

The threads began moving on their own, coalescing and weaving together into a greater shape, slowly taking form before the eyes of the astonished Executor. “He taught me how to live, and how to survive!”

And Kiritsugu hadn’t been the only one to teach her something, even if the blonde had never realized it.

“Shape Ist Leben!”

Slamming its paws on the earth, the claws in them scratching the dirt and cutting the plant-life under it, her construct rose its head, encircled by a majestic mane of silver threads, and released a mighty roar. Her very own Saber Lion.

The silver King of beasts bounded forward, slashing and chomping at Kirei, who hopped back from the swings. Even if it didn’t have the weight of a real lion, it had the reach and reflexes of one, easily dodging the three Black Keys he threw at it. He jumped up, turning in the air and bringing down his right leg on the beast’s head. Or rather, he tried, because the lion managed to swiftly dodge to the left and bit down on his extended, Reinforced limb.

Immediately taking advantage of the situation, the construct pushed off the ground with its front paws, rising to stand on its hind legs and taking Kirei along, before slamming him on the ground. It repeated the act once more before flinging him off to the left, the priest folding around a tree when he hit the bark.

Kirei barely had time to get himself off the ground before the beast roared once more, and he turned around just quickly enough to see it pounce on him, flying in the air with its jaws wide open. He managed to take out two Black Keys in his right hand and stabbed it into the creature, hoping to break whatever served as a nucleus for the construct.

The Sacraments dug deep, bursting out the other side of the beast and breaking a few of the wires that made it up. But before Kirei could even think it did anything, the threads began to unravel, winding around his arm before traveling all over his torso. His arms were slammed together and pressed on his shoulders as the wires constricted his upper body. It seemed the Einzbern still held control; with a move of her hand, he was sent against the tree he had been flung at and the wires on his arms began encircling the bark as well.

With his hands flat on the trunk and his arms going on the same path, he was well truly confined.

Irisviel inwardly grinned when seeing the state Kotomine was left in, but she knew they didn’t have the luxury of waiting. Turning to Maiya, her arms straining against Kotomine’s resistance, the homunculus hurriedly asked, “Now, Miss Maiya!”

The woman nodded, knowing what was needed of her to keep the man the two adored safe from this monster. But for as much as she pushed through her pain, her movements were hindered by the litany of injuries she had accumulated from her short bout with the Executor, and she could only slowly reach for the handgun on her back.

She was just slow enough for Kotomine to find proper footing while entrapped.

For any human being, there were limits to how strong they could become. Be it because of age, duties occupying their time, or just a lack of interest or need to improve their physical aspects. Only those with the time or resources could pursue further heights, but at some moment, they met their roadblock.

For someone with Magical Circuits, however, the road was much, much longer. Something Risei Kotomine had soon learned when teaching his son the techniques of Bajiquan.

The two women flinched when they heard a great boom. Turning their eyes back to the restrained Executor with disbelief on their faces, they saw as another loud boom emanated from the tree, visible cracks showing from the spot where Kotomine’s hands were.

Kirei smiled slightly. A master martial artist did not limit himself to merely training fists or feet. Elbows, knees, back, chest, all of these needed to be honed through exercise. If the entire body was forged into a weapon, then restrained limbs meant nothing.

Drawing in a breath, he tensed all his muscles and in quick succession, released the collected force through his palms and into the trunk, forming another crack on the tree that ran further than the one before, almost reaching the other side.

With one more push, the tree broke in half, the top falling on the ground and causing an even greater boom that reverberated throughout the entire the forest.

Kirei leaned back, his arms still bound but his muscles bunching against the restraints pulled the strings taut, pushing them into their breaking point. But to his his surprise, the silver thread unrevealed from his arms and shot towards his face, while a gunshot rung out behind him.

While Irisviel and Maiya had been shocked at the sight, they had witnessed much grander after Shielder’s fight with Archer, and managed to recover soon enough, with Maiya bringing up her pistol and aiming at the priests head while Irisviel tried to move her strings to his neck and choke him.

Kirei threw himself forwards while keeping his palms between his neck and the string, the bullet slamming into his shoulder and driving him further ahead. He managed to recover even with the threads tightening against his palm, rolling with the shot and bringing himself up solely with his feet.

He did not stay idle, quickly running in an arc until he put the homunculus in the gun-woman’s line of sight stopping the shots. His knuckles pressed onto his neck, the white-haired woman scowling as she strained, until Kirei cast Reinforcement and pulled on the strings until they broke, making her shout in pain from the recoil she received from her Magical Circuits.

Seeing Irisviel fall down to her knees, Maiya grit her teeth and slapped a hand on the ground, using it to make her body roll and put the Executor in her sight again before firing off three quick shots that he blocked with two new Black Keys. Clearly deciding that she need to be dealt with first, Kotomine dashed to the left, letting two of her bullets hit him in his arms before he flung out the Black Keys he held.

One landed on the ground in front of her, but the other managed to hit Maiya’s shoulder blade, digging deep and making her let out a loud scream. Yet, despite the pain, she held the gun and aimed, taking another shot before her gun ran dry.

Kirei casually deflected the bullet before throwing the Black Key he used for that at her, the Sacrament cutting through half her wrist and nearly severing it, thin lines of flesh barely holding the hand to the arm. She screamed once more, this time more shrilly, and the gun dropped from her weakened hand.

His lips twitched at the sound of her pain. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that he couldn’t really understand, a tightness that confused and eluded him to it’s true meaning. But he didn’t have the time to deal with that at the moment.

With one enemy down, the woman barely hanging to consciousness, he casually walked to the Einzbern, whom was still dealing with the pain in her Magical Circuits and couldn’t properly move to resist any longer. Due to that, it became abhorrently easy for him to pick her up by the throat and hang her in the air.

She chocked as his hand settled on her throat, her arms gripping his own and trying to apply pressure on his nerves to make him let go. Unfortunately for her, his Reinforcement made that endeavor futile. It didn’t stop her squirming in his hold.

Now with her in front of him, Kirei used this chance to satisfy his raging curiosity. “Woman. I have a question for you. By what I could gather, you and that other woman intercepted me in order to stop me from meeting Kiritsugu Emiya.” His expression darkened. “Who gave you that order?”

She glared at him with a snarl on her face, but he wasn’t interested in her anger, only her answers. “You don’t have Command Seals and thus are not the Representative Master of the Einzberns. You are likely a homunculus made to protect the Lesser Grail’s vessel. Someone like you would never be idiotic enough to risk dying on the battlefront.”

His hand tightened, drawing another sharp gasp from her. “So I ask again woman. By who’s will do you fight?”

His question was now invaded by desperation, by a need to understand, to grasp the meaning of their actions. A part of his mind had a theory, an idea that he railed against. Because it didn’t make sense, because it went against everything he knew of Kiritsugu Emiya, because… because it meant that Emiya wasn’t…

He felt a hand gripping his ankle, a weak grasp on the verge of slipping. He looked over, seeing the bodyguard had dragged herself to him with her uninjured arm, leaving a trail of blood and disturbed soil on her path. She should barely have the strength to stay awake.

Yet her glare burned straight through him. A glare the homunculus shared.

Kirei frowned at the women who desperately tried to stand against him, frustration swimming inside his heart, right above absolute confusion. They… They had not been sent here to fight him by his target. No, it was very likely Kiritsugu Emiya didn’t even know about what they were doing.

They simply cared enough for him to put their lives on the line for his sake.

Impossible. Just impossible. Kiritsugu Emiya is like me, understood by no one.

Like me.

He has to be…

Burying his thoughts, he forced himself to focus on the present, on the woman chocking in his hand. Feeling his frustration simmer down, he allowed only for cold logic to kick back in, and knew that letting these two live would be a hassle later down the line. They were aware he was the Master of Assassin still, and he couldn’t let Emiya have so many pawns to stay between them.

Even if he still didn’t know what he wanted from the Magus Killer.

Taking his left boot and stepping on the gun-woman’s back, drawing a pained gasp from her, he whipped out three Black Keys to his right hand, before moving his left to the false woman’s mouth, silencing her.

Just as the blades dug into her stomach.

She screamed against his palm, tears streaming down her face and pooling on his fingers as she tried to pry his arm away from her, blood spurting out of her mouth and covering his limb. His eyes were drawn to to the red liquid, a little surprise at the color, though he should have expected nothing less from an artificial human. “I see. So it is re-”

He must have let the revelations of tonight affect him too much, much more than he expected. His senses must have dulled, the pump of his blood rising to his head as he mulled over the idea of these two caring for Kiritsugu Emiya being too loud for him to listen properly.

It was the only way to explain how he only noticed the blade coming for his arm when it showed in his vision.

He was still fast enough to retract the appendage at the nick of time, dropping the dying Einzbern so she wouldn’t slow him down. The sword kept going down, slamming into the ground and kicking up dirt and leaves from the sheer force of the impact.

Kirei’s wide, hollow eyes slid to his left, meeting a pair of sharp, angry blues.

Shielder abandoned the sword, lifting his left arm and cocking the fist in an amateur manner, being far too predictable attack, leaving Kirei just the perfect time and reading to bring his arms over his chest and pump them with Reinforcement.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter if the punch was predictable. It didn’t matter that he poised to defend. It didn’t matter that he had used Reinforcement on his limbs.

The force behind the limb, now glowing with an unfamiliar white light and sparks of red energy, forced his arms back into his body, his fists slamming into his chest and making him gasp. His legs lifted off the ground as he sailed back and away from the trio, flying like a pebble throwing by a strongman bodybuilder. His back crashed against a tree and he bounced on the bark, his eyes winking out as his consciousness threatened to leave him like the blood that flew from his mouth.

Kotomine Kirei fell to the ground, face impacting the soil and, seemingly, knocked out cold.

“Huh. So, that’s how it feels to use Mana Burst.”

Irisviel stared at the Executor’s body, her jaw hanging low as her brain failed to process what she had just seen. For all the effort she and Maiya had put in their fight with Kotomine, Maiya’s traps and ambush along with Irisviel’s own attack, they simply hadn’t been good enough to take down their enemy.

And then he gets taken out in one hit by someone else entirely?

She would be glad if she didn’t feel so cheated right now.

A sudden choke on the blood pooling on her open mouth soon had her putting those thoughts aside.

She gripped the blades digging into her, almost pulling them out on instinct before Kiri’s lessons slammed back to the forefront of her mind. She took her hands away, shaking badly as she had already cut them on the Black Keys. She grimaced, knowing very well that the only way she would survive was if Lancer found her and fast.

But, as fate would have it, she would have a different savior tonight.

Suddenly kneeling in front of her, Shielder grabbed her wrists, gripping them incredibly gently for someone who could launch a grown man half a yard away with a kick. Spreading her fingers with his thumbs, he seemed to inspect the damage to them before putting the confused homunculus’ hands down. She did panic when one of his hands moved to the Sacraments stabbing into her.

“Calm. I can help you; my Au- my magecraft can heal. I’m good at it.” He told her, holding up his one hand in front of her face as she grabbed onto his other arm, afraid that he was trying to finish the job. When her eyes looked up to his own, she found them to be sharp and focused, yet they held a softness and worry that were entirely directed towards her. A clear, simple want to help her.

It was shocking enough for her to relax her grip on his arm. He nodded at her slowly, making sure to keep his eyes squarely on hers, before they moved to the wound. His hand slowly reached for the weapons lodged there, taking one in hand and testing if he could remove it, drawing a sharp gasp and another bloodied cough from her. He didn’t flinch, only drawing a deep breath and grasping the weapons, each locked between his fingers.

Irisviel started when a small, leather cylinder showed up in her vision, held up in front of her by a pale, smooth hand. When she looked to the side, the one there had a dispassionate face that looked back with indifference, bored blue eyes that clearly said this was a whim and not a favor. “Bite. I won’t help if your tongue flies off.”

Listening to Caster’s words, Iri bit down on the leather and looked back to the Master before her, nodding so he would know she was ready for him to remove them. He, in turn, looked back to his Servant with a grateful look before turning back to the Keys.

With one hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, he carefully gripped the blades, counting down from five, the dwindling count making her tense up until…

He ripped the swords out at three.

She barely had the presence of mind to scream against the leather, the pain of having steel rasping her organs, of her skin being even further harmed by the sudden removal, the blood that flowed out of the holes, it was all too much for her to bear, her mind almost blanking. She had thought the worst had been when the wounds were made, not when the blades were removed.

Yet, as soon as the painful feelings reached her brain… They stopped.

With wide eyes and sudden clarity, she looked down to her belly, seeing the holes made on her clothes, evidence of her grievous injury. Yet, there was no injury. Not even a sign of them, not a scar or sealed flesh, no stitches, nothing. It was like she had been healed in a second, no, less than a second.

Her jaw fell at the sight, her hands moving and touching her stomach and confirming that there was no longer an opening there. It was like nothing had ever happened.

But healing magecraft takes time! She shouted in her own mind, words failing her. And it should leave the recipient at least sore or something! Just what kind of spell is he using?

Shielder stared at his handiwork, and where she expected pride or maybe even relief, he only looked with a little suspicion, just enough to put her in an alarmed state. Releasing a breath, he turned his eyes away from her belly and to the other injured woman right beside them, who had been knocked unconscious by the pain she suffered.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, a white light suddenly manifested along Shielder’s arm, shining almost blindingly in the dark forest. The light traveled from his limb to Maiya’s shoulder and then quickly spread all over her body. Irisviel stared as the visible injuries on the gun-woman, the cut on her shin and the deep gnashes on her arms, sealed in a matter of seconds, once more without any signs of ever being there in the first place.

And to further surprise the Einzbern, small groans soon could be heard coming from the now awake mercenary, who layed her hands on the ground to push herself up. Shaking her head free of the drowsiness that had covered her mind, Maiya raised to her feet and looked at her charge, the pale beauty staring back with a lowered jaw.

Maiya blinked, still a little dazed, and was about to ask what had happened before the memories suddenly slammed back into her head. The pain of her injury being continuously targeted by the Executor forcing her into unconsciousness, before she felt… something weird.

It was as if her very soul had been in contact with another, emotions foreign to her that took the pain away, comforted her heart and whisked away her turmoil. A protectiveness that stood before her in waiting, a gentleness that caressed her heavy head, a determination that refused to give up on treating her.

It was… like a strange yet beautiful dream.

Yet those thoughts were pushed to the back of her head when she saw the man who was now standing before her.

It was instinct alone that had her hopping back and drawing her handgun on him, before logic could have the chance to slam back and tell her that a firearm was useless on the vigilante. She flinched when those eyes turned to her, as if annoyed by her gesture more than anything, but, with a deep breath, she pushed through any fear she felt.

“Step away from Madame.” She said clearly, hefting her useless weapon.

She refused to lower her gun, knowing she was likely throwing her life away, but knowing that she didn’t have the luxury of letting Irisviel be injured or taken. She was the most important tool for Kiritsugu’s dream, and Maiya refused to let the man down.

Her resolve shone through her eyes, meeting the calm blues before her. Barely a second passed, yet it seemed he managed to understand her completely in that time. With a chuckle, Shielder turned away from the homunculus and faced her, putting his hands up in what came across more like mockery than genuine surrender.

Especially with the mirth in his eyes.

“Really?” A voice from the side reached Maiya’s left ear, the woman jumping as she realized that Caster was right beside her, her weapon held behind her and ready to come down on the gun-woman’s head. The Servant of Spells had an unamused look on her face, staring at her Master with a frown.

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt anyone.” Shielder responded, shrugging his caped shoulders and making Maiya sigh at seeing she was just being humored by the man. He let his hands fall down, Caster doing the same(but not sparing her Master the eye-roll), and he smiled towards Maiya, his eyes closing as his distorted voice asked, “How are you feeling? You seem to already be much better than before.”

“I’m… I’m better.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied with his work. Irisviel took that as her cue to jump up and forcibly lower the gun, hurriedly exclaiming, “Maiya, come on, put that down! Shielder just got done healing both of us, we can’t just start trying to fight him. Not like we could…”

Turning back to the vigilante, Irisviel took in his expression, what little she could see of it due to the cowl and mask hiding most of his face, and released an anxious breath when he didn’t show any signs of anger at Maiya’s action. With a shallow breath, the almost noble lady nervously curtsied to the man, something that seemed to shock him.

“Thank you for your aid, Shielder.” She responded, maintaining her pose for a few seconds as she had been taught by Grandfather’s maids. It also helped her buy time to find what to say. “While I can’t claim to understand your reasons for stepping in for our benefit, I, Irisviel Von Einzbern, appreciate your actions. I may not know how to return the favor, or if I ever could, but know that the Einzbern family is deeply grateful for your aid.”

He blinked at the formality, but soon shrugged as his body almost imperceptibly tensed, him overcompensating for it with a clearly put-on sing-song voice, “Weeell~~ You could answer a question of mine.”

The very air around the man changed into a chilly wind that threatened to become a raging blizzard, his gentle eyes now turned into icy blues of light-frost, his deepened voice angrily demanding, “Why do you have Avalon?”

Irisviel’s heart froze.

“WHAT!?” Caster screeched, uncaring about formalities at he face of the revelation. “Avalon? She has Avalon!?”

“Hm.” He nodded, his eyes moving up and down her form as he scratched his chin. “I felt it when I tried to heal her. Didn’t even have to do anything, just needed to boot up Avalon and it did all the work.”

At the suddenly alarmed looks he was receiving from the two of them, and the heft of Maiya’s gun, the man tried to explain himself, “Look, I’m not going to stab you for it or anything. But Avalon is pretty special, considering all it can do. So, I just want to know why you have Avalon and not Artoria, considering that if you gave it to her, you would have a nice little guarantee to win the War.”

Irisviel bit her lip, looking far calmer on the outside than what she felt inside as dread filled her entire being. It was impossible for someone to know she had Avalon inside her with nothing but a cursory glance, barely any use of analysis! And he said he booted it up!? Only a Pendragon, scratch that, only Artoria Pendragon should be able to do that!

WHO THE HELL WAS THIS MAN!?

“Ah.” Right in the middle of her internal breakdown, Shielder sighed, looking away for a moment before concerned blue eyes moved back to the homunculus. “So it’s you.”

Those gentle blues returned, confusing the Einzbern with the random mood swings, though his next words replaced it with shock, “You’re the one who’s going to die soon.”

“Met your husband earlier today. At least I think so. Nah, knowing my luck, I definitely bumped into another Master and didn’t even notice.” He shook his head, some frail amusement in his voice, before he put a hand on his hip, reminiscing, “We talked for a bit, about you and a few other things that really aren’t my place to say. Just a piece of advice though.”

He looked over to her again, calm and serene as a lake as he looked her directly in the eyes, smiling under his mask as he jovially told her, “Keep an eye on your man. He’s a little stupid, and that’s coming from me, but… He really loves you. Don’t let him forget that.”

“But… wait,” He put a hand on his chin, now confused as he realized a small detail that simply contradicted a few things. “If he’s a Master in the Holy Grail War, then if he won he should be able to use the wish to save you from whatever disease it is you have. Yet when we talked, his words were so… final. Like he knew he was going to lose you no matter what.”

“The Holy Grail only chooses the people that wish for it... who have a wish that only the Grail can grant. But if he accepted you’re going to die either way, then it means...”

“Then he has to have another wish. Something beyond your salvation.” The deduction was an easy one to make. “What is it? What dream does he have, that not only would you two come out here and risk yourselves just to protect him from this guy, but have him give up on saving the woman he loves?”

“…” Silence was her only answer, knowing that an average Magus would use anything for their advantage over someone during a Holy Grail War. Even if Shielder may not be like that, his Servant was still Morgan Le Fae.

“...I guess you don’t really have a reason to tell me...” He awkwardly scratched his cheek, giggling at their defensiveness and ignoring the way Caster yawned into her hand, bored with her Master’s antics and darting off to check on th efallen Executor. After that, Shielder slapped a fist against his palm, exclaiming, “Oh! I know! How about I tell you my True Name?”

Now that was confusing. While knowing his actual name would make it easier to hunt him down in the city and plan around him(and against him), it didn’t make sense to offer it as a bargaining chip when it was a simple matter of time and effort to find out… on… their own…

Realization hit Maiya and Irisviel both, their skin paling as they finally connected the dots. His casual displays of superhuman strength and speed, his ability to use and identify Noble Phantasms that belonged to other Heroic Spirits, and his sudden reveal of the importance of his name, it all led to one conclusion.

This man wasn’t a human.

He was a Servant.

“Hehe, I’m not a big figure like Arthur or Morgan, but I’m still a Servant. Well, a Semi-Servant… Or is it Demi?” The two humans stared at the man with confusion and shock, Irisviel in particular had her jaw low at the easy admission that Shielder was, himself, an actual Servant. He caught their shocked gazes and shrugged his shoulders, almost meekly. “It’s complicated. But, knowing my True Name will let you know my Noble Phantasms, right? Seems like a fair deal to me.”

“You find out you’re a Servant and immediately decide to go around sharing your identity? And for something so useless?” Caster frowned deeply, rising to her feet from where she had been poking Kotomine and crossing her arms, lightly glaring at the back of her Master’s head.

Shielder slumped, crossing his arms as he looked back at the woman. They obviously spoke through the telepathic link between Master and Servant, because Caster looked surprised for a moment before stopping to consider whatever was said and nod in agreement. Not that Irisviel saw it.

She was busy staring at the man- no, at the Servant- with wide eyes, petrified by his admittance, just as much as Maiya and Kirei Kotomine were. The fact that Shielder was strong enough to fight a Servant, everyone in the War knew, but the idea that he himself was a Servant, one capable of summoning two other high-level Servants, despite the rules of the World saying such a thing could never occur...

This changed everything.

A Servant was bound to have Noble Phantasms. A Servant that, according to Lancer’s own words, could summon the light of Excalibur when wielding Siegfried’s Balmung, was bound to have very powerful Noble Phantasms.

She needed to know. Kiri needed to know. For his dream. For the perfect future for him and Illya.

And for some reason... she felt she could trust this man.

It was impossible for anyone, not even Jaune, to know that, at that moment, Irisviel was feeling the effects of a Servant’s Charisma Skill. Not only that, but the Charisma of Hope variant, directly affecting Irisviel kind and gentle nature and making her more amiable to the secret Knight of The Round Table.

Even if it wasn’t malicious in nature, even if it wasn’t being used on purpose, it still affected Irisviel enough to tide her over.

After rationalizing it in her mind, Irisviel put both her hands over her heart, tightly grasping each other as she began to speak of her husband’s dream. The paradise her beloved wanted to create.

“Emiya Kiritsugu’s wish...” She began, hesitating when her voice suddenly brought back the attention of the bickering pair.

Maiya jumped, turning her gaze to Irisviel with confusion and a light panic in her eyes, that seemed to ask the homunculus what the hell she thought she was doing. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she whispered, “Madame… Are you sure?”

Irisviel just nodded, knowing that she was giving up what could be valuable information if used correctly, but the reward for it was big, big enough to be worth the risk.

Turning back to the two Servants before her, she grasped her hands in silent prayer that her decision was correct, that it would not burden her husband.

“He wishes for the salvation of all of humanity, for the end of all bloodshed and war. He wishes for eternal peace for the world.”

The two Servant stared at her with wide eyes, Caster staring in confusion and astonishment as her eyes blinked form time to time, apparently trying to comprehend the idea of a human, a magus at that, to carry such an innocent dream. Yet neither could find no lie in this woman’s words, which drove them into a quiet hush.

A light snicker interrupted the silence.

Shockingly, it came from Shielder himself.

She stared at the man whose shoulders shook in amusement, his closed fist held before his face and desperately trying to contain the laughter that threatened to escape him. She stared, disbelief making her jaw drop down. It clicked shut with abnormal aggression for her, but she couldn’t contain the anger, no, the absolute fury that rose in her.

She had thought someone like Shielder, someone that spent the nights of the Holy Grail War helping innocent people, someone who would spare enemy Masters, who had been praised by Lancer as a Saint among saints! Her nails dug deep into her palms, almost drawing blood, and she let out an uncharacteristic growl.

“Do you think his wish is funny?” She asked, nay, demanded of the man before her, anger invading her tone as her disappointment grew, “Do you think it’s nothing but a delusion, a childish waste of time!? I expected better of you, Shielder!”

“Calm down, calm down!” Shielder raised his hands before her, trying to placate the enraged wife. “I’m not laughing because I think it’s stupid; I’m just surprised how similar how wishes are, is all.”

That drove wind from Irisviel’s sails, the woman stepping back and tilting her head in confusion. She couldn’t help but ask, “Similar?”

“Yeah.” Shielder released an almost relieved sigh through his covered mouth, seemingly smiling happily while his eyes closed. “To be honest…” And when they opened again, the light seemed to have faded from his irises, leaving behind only hollow pupils.

“I think it’s a beautiful dream.”

Irisviel and Maiya gasped at the look on the man’s face, not only because they never expected someone as bright and jovial, as idealistic as he, to ever show such a helpless face, but because those eyes were familiar, even if they weren’t the same.

His eyes look like Kiritsugu’s...

“Caster.” Shielder called out, turning to his Servant and throwing a thumb back to the two. “Can you take them back to the mansion? With these two around, maybe you can convince Kayneth to back off for tonight.”

“And leave you alone, after realizing the magnet for trouble that you are? I think not.” Caster replied with a stern stare, her weapon resting on her shoulder as she put her hands on her hips. “Why do you even want me gone for, anyway? Don’t play dumb, I was a mother of four and I know when a teenager is trying to hide something.”

“… I’m twenty.” The Half-Servant muttered, before looking away from Caster’s unimpressed stare. Sighing, he stated, “Ahh, I just wanted to interrogate that guy over there. He’s probably from the Church or something, and I wanted to know just why I have a bounty on my head. I swear, if it’s because the Tohsaka guy got scared of me…”

That just made Caster’s eyebrow rise, the woman turning her body to the side as she stared at her Master from her eye’s corner. “And why shouldn’t we just bring him with us inside the mansion? Interrogation would be easier with me around.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think I can stop myself from punching Kayneth in the eye after he pulled this stunt.”

The two stared at each other, a silent message being shared between them before Caster let out a small huff of angry air. “Fine, have it your way. I’ll be back soon, so don’t go playing around too long.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

With that, Caster was apparently satisfied, turning away and tapping the butt of her staff on the ground two times before a round-shaped platform of ice formed in front of her that the Servant carefully stepped on, before it levitated off the ground and moved forward, rather quickly.

An invisible hand grasped their collars, some intricate application of wind, and forcefully leading them with hurried steps towards the fast-paced Faerie Queen. Their course was a quick one, Caster keeping pace with them by slowing down the speed of her creation, though she still looked a little miffed.

Being the one closer to the mage(and the nicer one), Irisviel leaned forward as much as the spell allowed, quietly asking, “Is it safe to just leave him there, alone? What if a Servant comes by?”

“One already has.” Caster responded, daintily stepping off the block of ice she had used to move herself.

““Huh?”” Both Maiya and Irisviel started at the proclamation.

The Servant ignored the confused sound, turning to the skies and glaring at the treetops around them and speaking, her voice carrying through as she amplified it with her Magecraft, “Or are you going to keep pretending your foolish attempts at hiding your presence are doing you any good? We noticed you long ago, and my patience has run its course. Come out and fight.”

The silence of the forest was the only answer to the Servant’s challenge, and for a moment, Irisviel hoped that whomever it had been following them, most likely Assassin, had decided to up and leave rather than risk direct confrontation.

But Maiya knew better.

This was an area that the fighting hadn’t reached yet, with Lancer and Saber being on the other side of the forest and their match with Kotomine Kirei had happened rather far from where they were now. Yet there was no noise, no crickets or rustles of leaves.

That meant a predator was around.

Just as the thought passed through her head, a loud, strange sound boomed near them, Irisviel and Maiya covering their ears at the wrongness of it. It was like a corrupted film’s audio of chalk being dragged on a board, but as if it had come from a beasts throat.

The reason why became apparent as a tear in the world appeared before them, an oval portal of black, like an open throat in space itself. From the black void, a single boot came out before it was followed by the rest of someone’s body, as small as it was.

Dressed in a white raincoat with a wide bottom that covered until just above her knees, a bottom that was filled with crudely-made drawings of all sorts of marine life and other symbols there were hard to see in the dark. Their big, light-gray combat boots and puffy, reddish-yellow gloves along with their small stature made the figure look like a child playing military sergeant.

The impossibly large, curved katana that slammed on the ground beside them made Maiya reevaluate her assessment of the person before her. It was almost as tall as they were, around four foot in length and another wide. It didn’t fit to be a katana, and calling it a nodachi was an insult to the sleek category of japanese weaponry. It was more like a giant kitchen knife.

Red eyes glared from behind a white mask with symbols of the moon in it’s many stages, a feminine and young, yet paradoxically old voice slipping into a heated insult, directed at Caster. “Mud-Blood.”

“Mud-Blood? Me?” The Servant’s eyes narrowed, her form starting to glow due to her mana beginning to be unleashed. “Rich, coming from a Dead Apostle.”

She then summoned her halberd-staff hybrid and held it before her with one hand, the other hidden behind her back as she weaved various runes into her clothing without looking, visibly strengthening the woman. With a frown and an imperious tone, she ordered the two behind her, “Keep going to the mansion. Warn your lover and the mindless snake about this one and stay out of the way. She isn’t someone you can fight.”

“Who is she?” Irisviel worriedly asked, never having expected to see concern on the Faerie Queen’s eyes, even if it was masterfully hidden and seemed to be aimed at something else entirely.

“Someone on the level of a Servant.”

With those last, ominous words, the Caster Servant waved her hand, numerous magical circles appearing in the air before her as beams of the five elements shot towards the interloper, driving her away from the path Maiya dragged Irisviel towards.

The last she heard of the two was the loud clang of steel meeting steel.

Jaune sighed as Morgan left and took the two with her, shaking his head as he used his left hand to drag down his mask, letting him freely speak. His voice was now clear as day, the Mystic Code no longer affecting it, “You would think that anyone with the minimum of sanity would play dead for a chance to run away from someone that just nearly killed them.”

In the blink an eye, he had picked up his sword and turned around, holding the blade behind him and ready to cut down the idiot that had pushed off the dirtied leaves and ran to stab him in the back instead of running. His eyes were disappointed as he stared at his fellow Master. “Seems I knocked a screw loose.”

Kirei barely had a moment to reconsider his impulsive decision to attack the recently revealed ninth Servant, born from a sudden surge of anger at having his best chance to his true goal slip away by Shielder’s orders. If he had ran, maybe he could have tried again, but with the sword swinging down, there wasn’t much he could do other than scream.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” Kirei howled in pain for what felt like the first time ever in his life, for no other pain, physical or emotional, had ever been as bad as this. Blood flew out of the large wound that had formed on his face, a gash that went from his forehead, over his eye, nose, the corner of his mouth, and ended past his chin.

It was not the type of injury one could easily heal from, and his screams did more damaged by snapping ligaments and muscles that had been hanging to their other ends by a thread, his brain despairing at the signals it received from the open wound. He wasn’t good enough in healing magecraft to heal himself from this, and even Assassin wasn’t fast enough to get him to a hospital without him bleeding out on the way.

And the worst of it… He had only been hit by the tip. The tip of that sword was enough to utterly destroy even an Executor like him.

“Crap. I didn’t think you were that close.” Jaune winced at the horrid sight. He had been aiming to shoo the guy away with the force of slamming his sword on the ground, but he turned out to be faster than Jaune expected. Hurriedly taking the man by his shoulders after he fell, Jaune held him down, saying, “All right, calm down, I can help you. Just stay still.”

Aura pumped out of him, only a little since, for as much as he wanted to heal the man, he needed to think of the future and his very likely confrontation with Saber, as well as needing to have a good portion of his Aura to keep the Argent Energy in him weakened enough.

But it looked like even when he restricted it to a trickle, his Aura was strong enough to completely heal the man, who stayed on the ground with wide eyes that stared at, or maybe through, Jaune. They looked lost and confused, but Jaune imagined he was having the same confusion the other two had had. “Phew. You look fine now. That’s a good job in my book.”

“Of course you would say that.”

Jaune flinched at the new voice, rising to his feet and staring into the darkness of the forest, the direction he was sure he had heard that irritatingly familiar voice speak, his guard already up.

“Wasting precious energy by healing an enemy that tried to kill you moments earlier. You really haven’t changed at all…”

His eyes widened as the figure removed itself from the shadows, giving him clear vision of someone he had desperately hoped he would never see again. “You…”

His black eyes stared down at Jaune, his nose turned up as the man frowned, speaking his name in a completely different manner than the times they conversed back in Camelot, now filled with disgust, “Sir Jaune.”

The white cloak of Jaune’s Mystic Code began billowing in a non-existent wind, moved only by the instinctual increase of his magical energy occurred by the elevated anger and trepidation that rose in his heart when facing the black eyes of the man before him.

Anger; for being in front of one of his friend’s killers.

Trepidation… because he knew this wasn’t going to be an easy fight.

HIS name slipped out in a sibilant hiss of hot breath, sparks of white light and red lighting emerging from the First Among Equals' body.

“Agravain…”

Chapter Text

The two former Knights of The Round Table stared each other down, a pair of cold black eyes and another of blazing blue, their glares meeting in the small clearing inside the forest. Neither made a move to attack, neither seizing the moment.

Kirei twisted his head between the two Servants, both of whom seemed to have completely forgotten his presence. His light brown eyes landed on Assassin, who had given up the cover of shadows, who had mentioned Shielder’s name.

It didn’t take Kirei long for him to realize the implications.

Dear Lord in Heaven, these two are both Knights of the Round Table.