Fate/Zero Desire

Make a Wish

I want. I wish. I desire.

These three phrases mean the same thing and make the foundation of humanity.

"I want hot food, so I shall cook it."

"I wish to protect myself from rain: so I will get an umbrella."

"I desire to reach the stars. Thus, I will create a machine capable of doing so."

What moves humanity, in the end, it's our craving for better things. But, in a cruel twist, many can't be granted for the most diverse reasons: morals, laws, or yet from being flat-out impossible.

But. But.

Imagine that there's one way to make your dreams come true.

What are you willing to give away for that to happen?

???, Fuyuki

One week to the beginning of the Holy Grail War.

'All seems clear,' thought Kirei Kotomine. He did not expect less. From what Tokiomi said to him, they wouldn't have to worry about their enemies until the start of the War. But he hadn't been trained to be lax. Much of his teacher's plan depended on that ritual.

He stared at his right arm, where he knew the marks were. It was the third time in fifteen minutes he had done that. Even all of his training couldn't help him keep calm.

And he had good reason to be nervous.

After all, he doubted that he should even have those marks.

The command seals didn't serve only to anchor a Servant to their Master: they also meant he wished for something.

The catch? He didn't know what his wish was.

Well, that was a white lie. Kirei knew what his wish was, or at least part of it.

He remembered the white beauty. The woman was like a snowflake with her pale skin and white hair. And as durable as one.

'I could not love you,' he said bluntly when her disease took a turn for the worse. 'My experiment failed.'

She kindly smiled at him.

'No, you love me.'

And then, the snowflake became red.

Kirei shook his head. No, he had no time for such thoughts. And, even if he had a wish, it didn't matter: his will had no say in how that War would go.

Sure that no one was watching him, he began the ritual. He put the catalyst in the middle of the blood circle - a skull mask that once belonged to a member of the legendary assassin sect, Hashashin. That would guarantee that his Servant was of the Assassin class - thus, one of the many titled Hassan-I-Sabbah.

Kirei began his chant. He felt the establishment of the magical connection. Two fates, now interconnected.

At the end of his chant, the circle bloomed with light. And, from it, much to his surprise, two figures emerged.

One was a woman with purple hair and dark skin. Her clothes and the skull mask left no doubt: she was the Assassin, Hassan-I-Sabbah. Thus, this made the presence of the man all the more intriguing.

He had the marks of an older man: not quite as old as his father, but still safely in his sixties, with a few gray hairs indicating that he was closer to the seventies. Otherwise, his hair was pitch black. He wore a blue military coat with a gray sash holding his sword and slacks with black dress shoes. The most striking thing was the eyepatch: it covered the left eye, and it would be unassuming if not for the fact that the priest could feel something staring at him from there.

The two figures bowed. The woman talked first in a low yet determined voice.

"I am the shadow that strikes unseen, the one that names this class of mine. I am an Assassin, at your service."

"And I," said the man, in a polite tone that still made Kirei's hair go up. "Am the greatsword that strikes down the opposition, leading to victory with a bloody blade. I am the Saber of Amestris, and you lead the path of my fate."

Kirei took a step back, stunned.

"This...this shouldn't happen," he said. "This violates the rules of the Holy Grail War."

Saber of Amestris stared at him with his eye(s?).

"I fear that the rules changed, Master."

Six days later

Tohsaka residence

Tokiomi Tohsaka nearly missed the time for the summoning.

It was nearly unthinkable for a magus of his standing to commit such a crass mistake, but he hadn't been himself since the summoning of Kirei led to such unpredictable results. Putting down the book he was reading, Tokiomi left the library.

The man put his hands over his head.

"Two servants..."

In the -admittedly short -story of the Holy Grail Wars, that only happened once, thanks to the Sorcery Trait of one of the participant families, the Edelfelt. Even then, their summon was that of a single Heroic Spirit split into two aspects.

And Tokiomi was damn sure that the man known as Saber of Amestris had no ties to the Hashashin.

'Where is Amestris, anyway? I never heard of such a place before.'

Their Saber was a mystery for the head of the Tohsaka. He had found no register of such a man nor from where he allegedly came.

Tokiomi disliked unknowns. They were the thing that ruined plans, and he had spent years planning for that moment. He had everything prepared to fulfill a desire that started with his illustrious ancestor, Nagato, and achieve the ultimate wish of any magus: to reach the Root, the place where all knowledge of the Universe was stored.

That unexpected hurdle, however, could put all his work at risk.

“Will it, though?” he asked, more to himself. “My Servant surpasses the others by a landslide.”

He went down the stairs, thinking about the catalyst he had obtained. It took the effort of three generations of Tohsaka heads to get that fossilized snake skin. It was an object of study for no small amount of magus.

After all, who knows if that artifact still possessed some of the secrets for eternal youth?

But Tokiomi had no intention of using the skin for that.

He went down the basement stairs. Kirei was in the room, giving the finishing touches to the summoning circle -it was something that the Tohsaka wished to do personally: however, his investigation on the dual summoning issue had eaten his time. There were no signs of his Servants: Assassin was scouting the city, and Saber of Amestris was guarding the house -a pointless move, as no other mage had summoned their Servants yet, and the magical defenses of the house were more than enough to repel any other intruder.

“Teacher,” said Kirei, bowing to his mentor. “Everything is ready.”

“Good work,” said the magus. “The auspicious time is nearing. I shall begin the chant.”

As Tokiomi let the words he practiced an insurmountable amount of times slip through his mouth, he felt his uncertainty replaced by confidence. Sure, he had to deal with twice the number of opponents, but does it matter?

If anything, it would entertain the king more and let him blind to his machinations.

He finished the chant. Two entities appeared from the circle.

The first one was the one that Tokiomi intended to summon. With his golden hair, red eyes, and armor that the magus could tell from a glance that it was of another level: without a shadow of a doubt, he was the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh.

The other figure was a woman. The Servant was higher than Kirei, the tallest man in the room, and had tanned skin -maybe something natural or a result of spending too much time in the sun -and eyes with dark, wide pupils. Her clothes, oddly enough, seemed modern, something that Tokiomi would see from time to time in the city: a long-sleeve, black leather dress that emphasized her cleavage, with polka-dotted underdress and high-heel boots that went until her thighs.

“Hmph. If you dared to summon me, and don't know who I am, then you are unworthy of being my Master,” declared the golden king.

Tokiomi bowed his head.

“I know who you are, great ruler of Uruk,” said the magus. “I called forth for you, the greatest of all heroes.”

The Archer nodded, giving a side glance to his 'partner.'

“And who are you? What gives you the right to stand with me?” asks the demigod. “Think carefully: your answer shall say if you live to fight…or die by my hand.”

Tokiomi's eyes widened. He was about to say something when he felt a hand over his mouth…except that the hand bloomed (as in, like a flower) out of thin air in his cheek.

“Spare your breath, Master,” said the woman. “I can present myself to Your Highness.”

She…didn't quite bow, but rather slightly lowered her head.

“I am the one that knows thousands of forbidden things, the great fiendess that once threatened the whole world. I am not of royal blood but be assured that I do not damnify your grace. You can call me Assassin of Ohara.”

Archer analyzed the now-named Assassin of Ohara. Then, he turned his back to her.

“You better not,” he said. “I shall take one of your rooms, Master. I hope that it's well fit for my needs.”

With that said, the man disappeared in a cloud of golden light.

The two Masters and the Assassin stood there while the latter shook her head.

“Oh my. That man will be such a handful…”

Matou Residence
Same day

His world was nothing but pain.

“Raise your head, deadbeat son,” said the monster, poking him with his staff. “Against all odds, you survived the final test.”

A man with more mercy would have left Kariya to take his time to recover. Unfortunately, magi weren't known for being merciful.

The husk known as Kariya Matou didn't answer the provocation of his ancestor. There was no point in doing that. If anything, it would worsen his situation. One twitch of his decrepit finger, and he would make the Crest Worms inside the body of the runaway rampage, causing much pain. And that would be of no good because…

“I suppose you know already, but you do not have much time to live, Kariya.”

…because of that.

“How. Long?” asked the younger man, barely articulating the words.

“Three weeks,” said the Matou head without hesitation. “At best, one month.”

Kariya closed his eyes. He knew what he was doing once Zouken had explained the procedure he would undertake many months ago, but it was still a shock. He tried to lift himself from the ground, but his left arm failed him, making him fall to the ground.

“More than enough,” he grunted. “This battle only takes two weeks, right?”

He felt angry at the man who did this to him, at the man that forced him to do this. Kariya wanted to rip them apart, but he held his anger. The worm-filled magus did this all for a reason.

All he did was for her.

“Indeed,” said Zouken. “And you are better than I expected when we began our little treat. So, you may have a sliver of a chance in this War. Thus, I decided to give you this.”

He pulled a rock shard with fancy inscriptions.

“This is a precious catalyst,” said the monster. “A shard of the round table. The hero that answers your call will doubtlessly be one of great quality…but there's an issue.”

Zouken poked Kariya again with his staff, this time at the right hand: the younger man had to bite his lips not to scream. He still could feel things on that side of his body.

“Even with all efforts of the Crest Worms, your abilities as a magus are still subpar. Even at full power, your Servant will be of lesser quality than others,” he chuckled. “Thankfully for your incompetent ass, I have the solution.”

He threw yellow paper at the ground.

“This is a special chant. With it, you will summon a Berserker as your Servant. Of course, you will burn out from the mana expenditure, but I suppose that is not a problem for you, no?"

Kariya wanted to scream. To storm out of that place, taking the child of his love with him, and run to a place where no one, magus or not, could find them.

However, he had made peace with himself the moment he suggested taking the Grail to that old vampire.

Kariya managed to stand up and grab the paper, moving slowly to the summoning circle. Opening it, he read the words inside. He could feel the power flowing through him like his blood was almost on fire.

Near the end, he added the modified lines of Zouken:

The Master could feel something changing in the air. His heart seemed about to explode. He saw thousands of black points, nearly fainting. However, he gritted his teeth and finished the chant, letting the circle burst into light.

Kariya, barely managing to keep conscient, noticed, with some surprise, that two were the figures he called forth.

It was hard to describe the first one. He knew that it should be the knight that Zouken mentioned, as he could distinguish he wore armor: however, the odd smoke surrounding him made it look less like a hero of legends and more like a nightmare. Was that the dreaded treacherous knight, Mordred?

The smoky figure seemed to have sensed what his Master thought and started to approach him: however, the other man put his hand in front of the Berserker, who glared at him.

If Kariya thought Berserker was weird, it was nothing compared to his companion. He was taller than the Servant of Madness -who already was tall, mind you -and muscular, as if he exercised regularly when alive. He had red hair and wore a blue bodysuit with metal protections on his shoulders and bracers on the arms. And -this may be just his delirious mind -but parts of him were made of fire: the torso, the boots, even the damn mustache. Judging by the face of his ancestor, however, that was no illusion.

“What the-” started the man before his upper torso was blasted to ashes by the fire man. It didn't take too long for him to reform, however. “What is this madness?”

The fire man stared at Zouken.

“Excuse me,” he said, not apologetic in the slightest. “I felt the intent of my master and thought you were an enemy. Was I wrong about this?”

Kariya coughed. Surprisingly, while he still felt pain, the strain of the two Servants didn't kill him.

“Spare him…for the moment,” said the man, pained. “Are you…my Servant?”

The man nodded.

“I am the flame that burns the evil in Japan, the number one hero. I am the Archer of Musutafu.”

Hyatt Hotel
The same day, a bit earlier

“Ah, finally!” said the irate Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. “Took your sweet time coming here, huh?”

In other circumstances, the Lord of the Clock Tower wouldn't lash out so savagely at the delivery man. Such things like these were beneath a man of his standing, and he would put one of his men to do that menial job.

However, recent circumstances had made him a far bit more paranoid, and he decided to do the job himself.

Ignoring the complaints of the magus, the delivery man passed the package to the Lord. Then, he left to finish his deliveries. By the time the hypnosis ended, the man would have no recollection of ever passing in the Hyatt Hotel.

“Right in time, as well,” said Kayneth.

He carried the box to the center of the room, where he had drawn the circle. His fiancee, Sola-Ui, memorized the chant she would say when Kayneth was summoning.

That finding had been a decisive point for his decision to participate in the Holy Grail War. When the marks first appeared in his hand, Kayneth had dug through the archives of the Clock Tower and found precious documents of the previous Second Owner of the region -what was his surname? Tohsaka? -had donated in a deal for an artifact. Unfortunately, it seemed someone damaged the files, as many of them were in a sorry state. However, it provided valuable information on some of the inner workings of the ritual, which Kayneth used to turn Sola-Ui into the anchor for his -their -Servant. ‘Those papers must have been valuable at the time,’ he thought. ‘Only the higher-ups could get to this. And in exchange, they gave away a snake skin fossil, from which there was a suspicious amount of nothing. Could it be that thing was a catalyst?’

Kayneth gripped his box in anger.

“Did the box wrong you?” asked Sola-Ui, in her dry tone.

“No, nothing of the sort,” he said. “I just thought about a big annoyance.”

Kayneth opened the box, staring at the fragments of the blade inside. His contacts had found it in Ireland and estimated it dated to the Fenian mythological period. Unfortunately, they had no information on who the owner was, as the Master had to rush the catalyst out of the hands of his family. He wouldn't have to do that if it wasn't for the theft of his original catalyst.

‘That no-good rat!’ he snarled in his mind. It had taken much time and resources to find even that part of the mantle of Alexander the Great. Kayneth knew that the resulting summon would be a formidable one. However, that never reached his hands. By the time he realized something was off, the thief was already away, and the Mineralogy Lord had so many enemies and too little time that it was impossible to find the criminal.

However, Kayneth knew that he would find the hooligan on the battlefield. He would rip through him and all the others that put himself on his way and return to the Clock Tower with the laurels of victory.

(And maybe finally gain Sola-Ui's heart, but he would never admit this to himself.

A magus -even more a Lord of the Clock Tower - would never let his emotions cloud his judgment.)
“Alright, then,” said Kayneth. “Now, for the glory!”

He gave a bit of flair to that last sentence: Sola-Ui, however, rolled her eyes, which the mage ignored. The woman focused on chanting her part of the summoning chant. After a few seconds, both magi finished reading their texts simultaneously-the single condition for the trick to work. From the shining circle, two figures emerged.

One was a man wielding two long sticks covered by a cloth that Kayneth immediately identified as serving a sealing function. He looked handsome and admitted the Lord to himself. A beautiful face…that Sola-Ui was staring at, shocked. ‘Surely, she must be impressed by the power of my Servant,’ he thought at first, but then he felt that something seemed off. Before the magus could put more thought into it, he saw the other entity that appeared from the circle and blinked.

“What in the name of the Crimson Moon is that?!”

His shock was evident because the other entity was not only a teenage girl but a teenage girl dressed very weirdly.

“Aaah?! Do you have any trouble with me?!”

The redhead glared at him with rage in her eyes. Her hair was split into two twin tails held by some accessory. She wore a form-fitting red and black bodysuit that covered her body until the neck. The number 02 was written in the area between her boobs.

“Hey, I'm talking with you!” said the auburn-haired girl, her dark blue eyes piercing through him. “Do you want me to carve your face, huh? Do you think I don't know how to fight?!”

“I never said that!” protested the Lord of the Clock Tower. “Who the hell are you?!”

The man with the spears put one between Kayneth and the girl.

“At ease,” he said. “While this situation is unexpected, we should not fight, as we are allies.”

The girl blinked, then blushed.

“Eh, uh…hello, handsome?”

…Ok, something definitely was up.

“State your name,,” said Kayneth.

Before the man could answer, the red-haired girl stepped up.

“I am the Rider of Tokyo-3, a defender of humanity!” she said. “And you better not forget it.”

‘Tokyo-3?’ thought the magus. He glanced at Sola-Ui to see what she thought of that…

She was still looking at the man! Not only that but occasionally she gave a poisonous glance to the newly-named Rider of Tokyo-3 as if she was a romantic rival.

Romance. Everything clicked for him. Fenian cycle. A curse. A forbidden relationship. Treason. Kayneth slowly stared at the other Servant, who bowed to him.

“And I am the Servant Lancer,” said the man, somewhat annoyed. “I swear by name as Diarmuid Ua Duibhne: I shall loyally obey you, Master.”

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Diarmuid of the Love Spot that charmed any woman that looked at his face.

Inwardly, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi swore. Not that anyone would know.

A Lord never showed his dissatisfaction to anyone.

Outskirts of Fuyuki

Some time later

Waver Velvet never knew how hard it was to draw with blood.

It was icky. It dries fast. And it nearly ruined his favorite sweater.

He didn't have much choice in what materials to use for his summoning circle, however. There wasn't exactly a shop where you could go and buy ritual materials in Fuyuki. Thus, his second best option was animal blood, which he obtained from killing the chickens he bought in Kunisaki, a measure taken to reduce the odds of someone tracking him.

That “someone” was the man who he had stolen from. Waver knew that Kayneth was too arrogant to consider using the same airport everyone else did and thus would likely go for a private one, especially if carrying Mystic Codes.

‘God bless your arrogance,’ thought the young man. ‘This means that I'm safe for now.’

Waver didn't plan to stay together with common people, but he was low on funds: going to Japan, buying the chickens, and wandering through Fuyuki. Paying for a roof over his head would suck him dry. He had to thank his luck that he found the Mackenzies, as it was almost too easy to insert himself as their grandson. It was also conveniently on the border of the Miyama area, meaning Waver could sneak into the forest without anyone noticing him.

After taking the blood out of his hands, the magus picked up the black box. Then, removing its cover, he stared at the item he had stolen from his cruel teacher.

Alexander the Great.

Waver, unfortunately, was never a story buff. He knew that the man was a notorious conqueror who made one of the greatest empires on Earth before dying from disease while still young. And something about him being short.

“Heh,” said Waver. “Maybe I am taller than him. Would be good for a change of pace.”

His height was only one of many things that made Waver the target of scorn in the Clock Tower. His ideas about magic were considered very radical to his peers -effort was thrown away in favor of natural talent, experience served for nothing in the face of lineage, and knowledge was nothing but an afterthought. The height of his anger at the system was when his teacher -that vile man known as Lord El-Melloi - not only ripped his manuscript, but he did so in front of the whole class.

Only the mere thought was enough to let him simmer.

‘I will show them! When I return to London, the only name they will hear is that of Waver Velvet! And they will recognize my genius!’

He started to chant, only to bite his tongue before finishing the first line.

‘Okay, maybe I should not rush things,’ he thought, wincing from the pain.

Taking a deep breath, he started the chant again -this time, going slowly from line to line. After one minute, he uttered the last part and watched as the circle bloomed with light.

Two figures emerged from it. One of them was…

“Ahahaha! Salutations, young man!” said the taller and more muscular one. His hair was red as a desert rock. “The one you summon is the Rider, Iskandar! But you may know me as Alexander the Great!”

Well, that one was answered fast. So Waver focused on his companion.

Contrary to the young Rider, the man was clearly old. Like the Rider, he was taller than Waver, albeit not having the impressive musculature of the King of the Conquerors -so thought the Master as it wasn't possible to verify this with his gray robe hiding a bit of his form. His nose seemed broken as if someone punched him there and it never healed correctly, he had a silver beard so long that it reached the waist, and the right arm seemed limp, with the right-hand flesh being in an ugly black tone. However, what called Waver's attention were the eyes: hidden by half-moon spectacles, those streaks of blue analyzed him and Rider, evaluating them.

“Oh?” said Rider, as if only now noting the stranger: however, he had never taken the hand out of his sheath from the moment he finished greeting Waver. “And who would you be? And what kind of weapon do you wield?”

‘Weapon?’ thought Waver. All that he saw the man wielding was a wood stick.

The other man swung his wand, releasing an energy blast so fast that neither man could react. However, he wasn't aiming at either of them.

POOF!

Rider looked in shock at his sword, transformed into a balloon shaped like a sword.

‘I barely saw him move it! And he didn't say one word!’ thought Waver. There was no doubt that the man was a Servant to catch Rider off guard. The boy prepared to order Iskandar to fight…

Only for both men to share a laugh.

“Ohohohoho! What an interesting man we have here!” said Rider, boisterous.

“I-is it time to laugh?!” said the Master in a higher-pitched voice than he intended. “Isn't he an opponent?!”

The elder raised his hand.

“Have no fear, young Master. Like Rider, I am under your command,” he said, swinging his wand again. The balloon turned back into a metal sword. “How do young people say? Ah, I was trying to ‘break the ice.’”

‘What,’ thought Waver. He shook his head.

“Wait, you said you are my Servant? Who are you?!”

The old man bowed his head.

“I am but a humble man that happened to have the honor of being headmaster of a wizardry school. You may refer to me as the Caster of Hogwarts.”

Einzbern Castle, Germany
Around same time

Kiritsugu stared at the circle, taking a deep breath. He felt Irisviel watching him, as she always did.

He took a moment to remember if there was anything he had forgotten before starting the ritual.

…

Nothing. There were no more steps to be taken, other than giving the first step in his ultimate plan.

For the final time, he would shed his hands with blood for a safer world.

Thus, he chanted:

The room of the castle was filled with the energy coming out of the circle until two figures appeared in the circle -much to the shock of the famed Magus Killer.

And to further shock him, neither of them was men -albeit in different senses.

The first figure, a woman wearing a combination of a dress and armor, turned her invisible sword to the other figure.

“Who are you, monster?!”

The other figure stared blankly at the menacing blade.

Now, Kiritsugu was no stranger to Phantasmal Species -in short, any creature originated from myth and fantasy. His former teacher was partially a succubus, after all, and he had to do some…questionable things to help her while he was an apprentice. And, from time to time, through all of his career, he had to deal with occasional nutjob magus that tried to resurrect one of them, without knowing that it was both impossible and so cover-blowing that it wasn't even funny.

He had never heard of humanoid hedgehogs, however.

The hedgehog not only stood on his two feet but also used white and red shoes and white gloves, each having golden rings around it. His fur was black, with streaks of red in the quills of the head, some stripes of the same color in the arms and legs, and a patch of white fur in the chest.

The creature stared at the woman with his red eyes.

“I am no monster,” he said before attempting to kick the girl in the chest at a surprising speed.

However, the girl blocked with her invisible weapon, pushing the foot of the attacker back before attempting to slash him.

And then-

“Hmph.”

The warrior woman interrupted her attack before turning to the top of the altar in the room.

The hedgehog stared at her impassively. Then, a voice echoed in the room.

“Cease your fighting, Servants of the Einzbern.”

Irisviel turned, surprised.

“! Lord Jusbstacheit!”

The oldest homunculi and the head of the Einzbern entered the room. Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow. It wasn't his style to appear in such a short amount of time.

“You know the truth. While in another life you would be foes, in this one you are allies.”

Kiritsugu raised his eyebrow even further, as the two Servants kept staring at each other.

“What is this nonsense, Jubstacheit?” asked the mercenary. “This is not how you said things would go.”

The homunculus shook his head.

“Such development was surprising for me as well, Magus Killer. It was something I only became aware of recently, from analyzing the magical overflow in the Grail.”

“Magical overflow?” asked Irisviel, instinctively touching her chest. It couldn't be the fault of Avalon, right?

“It's…hard to explain the why,” said the elder of the Einzbern. “But, for this iteration of the Holy Grail War, two wishes shall be granted. Thus, two Servants manifested in response. Albeit there's something else I can't identify in this situation…”

The Heroic Spirits finally stopped their faceoff, with the hedgehog jumping back to the ground.

“Allies, huh?” he said. “I never had many of those in life,” he raised his hand to the woman. “We may have started on the wrong foot. Allow me to make the first move. I am the being known as the Ultimate Lifeform. But you may call me Lancer of the ARK for the time being.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, putting down her weapon.

“Ultimate Lifeform? Isn't that a bit cocky of you?”

“It was not I that called myself this,” said the Lancer. “Although I feel it's hard to disagree with my creator.”

The woman stared at the hedgehog a bit longer before giving her hand.

“I am Artoria Pendragon. Saber class.”

Center of Fuyuki

A few hours later

“Oh, so cool, so cool…” mumbled Ryuunosuke Uryuu in his daze. “Hey kid, don't you think this is cool?”

Said kid whimpered, still trembling from seeing the brutal murder of his family. Completely understandable for Uryuu: murdering people was always a dirty thing. At first, anyway.

He would see the beauty once he finished this circle. Ah, such beauty. He really exaggerated this time by killing a family, but the end result would be something to see.

“Fill, fill, fill, fill…hmm, was it four or five times? Hmm, better to be sure. Fill, fill, filling, filling, fill, there we go.”

He turned to the kid.

“Hey, do you believe in demons?”

Uryuu didn't know from where came that wish to talk, but he decided that he had the time.

“The newspapers and the magazines keep calling me a demon, and yet there are many things that kill infinitely more than I do. Explosives, for instance. Did you know a big bomb detonated and killed thousands of people during the Second War?”

The kid couldn't answer, trembling in fear.

“Yeah! I was surprised too. No blood to use for art. No bones. Nothing remained. Only a bunch of ruins infected with plutonium. Being killed by a demon is not all that bad. They at least talk with you, like I'm doing. Something like: 'Sup! I'm Uryuu Ryuunosuke, a demon!’ That sounds like a good way to introduce yourself, no?”

He glanced at the circle.

“I wonder if this thing will summon a demon. I found this book, and it had all these instructions, but I repeated the ritual many times and nothing. But I had a good feeling about this place, so I decided to try it one last time before leaving town. Maybe I'm finally seeing how a demon kills? Ever thought of that?”

The kid whimpered, trying to reduce its size -hard, considering his binds.

“A stab? A decapitation? Ripping your intestines? Ahh, it's going to be unique, I just- OUCH!”
He felt his right-hand burn as some weird tattoo appeared on it.

“What the-?” He glanced at the three red snakes that grew in his hand with some surprise.
Then, he turned to the circle, which emitted a blinding light and strong winds from which two people stepped out.

One, folded with luxurious robes covering its tall figure and eyes so wide that they were almost owl-like, bowed to him.

“Oh, young man. As the Caster Servant, I ask: what is your name, master of mine?”

“Uh, what he said.”

The other man, on the other hand, was so plain that it hurt: black hair, gray eyes, a black suit with a white shirt and a red tie below, and boots. He seemed the type of person you would cross at the bus stop and exchange cheap talk with before your ride arrived.

“Oh?” said Caster. “I had no expectations for company in my summoning! Welcome, my friend! It seems luck unites us over the leadership of this young man.”

“Uuuh, whatever it rolls for you,” said the mysterious man.

“So coooooooool!”

Uryuu had a wide grin on his face.

“Are you demons? Was that book for real?”

Caster coughed.

“Before anything, I would like to know who you are, young Master,” said the sorcerer.

“Oh, right!” said the young man. “The name is Uryuu Ryuunosuke, a serial killer currently returning to its roots. My favorite targets are women and kids.”

“Kinda messed up,” said the man. “What did they do to you? And how do you kill them?”

Uryuu blinked.

“Uh, I just like murder them for fun. And I usually just stab them and use their blood to make art, like this circle.”

The man in the suit looked at the ground, then at Uryuu, then at the child.

“Now, now, this is mean…” started the man in the suit. “Here, it's not nice to kill children. Let me release you, boy.”

He moved to the tied-up boy, slashing its bindings apart and guiding them to the door.

“Oi, you cannot just do that!” protested the serial killer, but the Caster put his arm in front of his Master, watching the scene with interest.

The man in the suit led the boy to the corridor, pointing at the door.

“See there? You can get out of here alive, kid. Just pass through the door, ignore everything you saw, and things will be fine. The cops will handle you. I was a cop. I know it. Are you getting it so far?”

“Y-y-yeah…”

The man in the suit slapped the kid in the back.

“Good! Now move your ass out of here!”

The boy nodded, taking a few rushed steps to the door…

SHINK!

A large blade stabbed him through the chest. The boy looked at his back, where an entity wielding a naginata faced him, like an emissary coming straight from hell. His body was red, and the last thing he saw was the demonic visage it carried, his orange eyes staring at his soul.

The man in the suit gave a crazed grin.

“Little did he know,” said the man. “I was also a bonafide serial killer.”

Uryuu and Caster clapped their hands.

“Bravo! Magnificent!” said the Servant of Magic. “The way you made him believe in a light at the end of the tunnel, only to push him into the abyss of darkness. And the confusion! The confusion when he saw his savior betraying him! Ah, so perfect!”

“So cool, you mean!” said Uryuu. “I thought you were boring, but I take it back: you and your demon are awesome! What is your name?”

Said demon threw the body on the stairs, his blade dripping with blood.

“Call me the Berserker of Inaba.”

One that wishes for understanding of the self:

One that wishes for wisdom beyond mortal eyes:

One that wishes for SalvationDestruction:

One that wishes for glory:

One that wishes for recognition:

One that wishes for the good of the world:

And one that wishes to make art.

Seven look for their wishes.

Six go out, shattered.

May the best of them triumph.

AN: There is no canon name for the Emiya family ancestor, but I didn't want to go with Schweinorg. Habichi is a bastardized combination of how “first time” sounds.