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.