When Worlds Collide
When Worlds Collide
“Ahaha! How lucky of us!”
Dumbledore turned from his work.
“Hm?” asked the man. He had been inscribing runes on the door for some reason. He said it was a 'surprise.' “What seems the matter, mister Velvet?”
Meanwhile, Rider distractingly ate a rice cracker as he looked at the television.
“Oi,” said Waver, annoyed. “Rider, did you hear me?”
Silence. The man kept looking at the television.
“Hey! I am talking with you! Assassin got killed! We have one less foe to fight!”
“Hm, so this is how bombs work…” mumbled Rider. “Such devastating weapons.”
“And what are you doing materialized, huh?” continued the Master, deaf to the Servant's commentary. “Dumbledore is doing something important, but you don't have any reason to be here! I am doing my job of watching the other Masters, and you are here burning through my mana and wasting my money on movies and snacks. What's the point?!”
The conqueror finally looked at the Master and shook his head carefreely.
“Relax! An Assassin is nothing to be worried about, they are nothing but bugs compared to the other heroes. Against Dumbledore or me, they are nothing to be worried about. Now, to more important matters!”
He gestured to the TV, where a fighter plane flew.
“The B2! A wonder of aeronautics. I want to seize ten of them for my army.”
“At this point, you could pretty well buy your country,” grumbled Waver.
Rider scratched his chin.
“Yes, war funds. Currently, you seem to be very broke, Master. Is there any city we can raid to gather gold?” He turned back to the television. “To match this Clinton from the United States, I will need a constant source to back up my army.”
Dumbledore let out a smile.
“The goblins of Gringotts would love you,” he said. “As from my death, they hadn't had such a spirited competitor try to break into their vaults for decades.”
“Goblins?” asked Waver. “I thought they weren't too much in the brain department.”
“Well, I suppose that our goblins are different, mister Velvet,” said the Caster of Hogwarts. “Although, if you ever find one of mine, do not say such things. They are very much capable of creating beautiful weapons capable of slicing you in two like cutting bread.”
Where Waver paled, Rider laughed.
“Ohoho! And what kind of price is needed to equip a battalion with all of those fantastical weapons?”
“Their prices are fair,” said Dumbledore. “But beware that their values over items are different: once the owner of the blade is dead, they will wish for the return of the artifact, and they can be rather ceaseless with those who held debts with them.”
Iskandar scratched his chin.
“A shame,” mumbled the man. “For a man of war like me, the cost-benefit would be too much. So maybe it's better to restrain myself with smaller items.”
“Now you show restraint,” grumbled Waver. “Anyway, with the death of the Assassin, we have one less worry.”
Dumbledore, however, was scratching his beard. The younger man ignored that.
“We have a powerful duo here!” said Waver. “With the magical prowess of Caster and the power of Rider, no one can stop us! Now, we only need to eliminate the other Assassin and Caster to-”
Rider paused the video.
“Do not get too eager, mister Velvet,” said Dumbledore. “Can you tell us what happened in the battle?”
“Eh?”
“You heard him right, boy,” said Rider. “Can you provide details of how the Assassin fell, for instance? You saw it, correct?”
“Uuuh…yeah. I remember the two Masters having a discussion, only for one of them to summon the Assassin. However, he got pierced by two golden projectiles, then…all happened fast, it was dark and-”
“Fool!”
Puick!
“Ow!” complained Waver, touching where he was flicked.
“You would do the job of a scout poorly, Master,” complained the Rider. “If you watch, you must watch well. Did you see the shape of the projectiles, for instance?”
“I…no,” said the magus. “I was so focused on the battle that I hadn't noticed that it all came so fast…”
Caster of Hogwarts shook his head.
“Master. Have you heard about the expression ‘the devil is in the details?’”
Waver slowly nodded.
“This is the point that Rider is trying to make. You focused on the result rather than how things came to that point. It's like watching the end of a movie without knowing why the hero is saving the villain. Thus, the details are important.”
The renegade of the Clock Tower nodded, feeling infinitely small. He did a sloppy job, and thus he may have ignored crucial things.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rider spoke:
“Do not feel bad, boy. This is your first taste of a battlefield. As long as the lesson goes through your head, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Dumbledore nodded.
“Besides, things may not be all lost.”
He swung his wand to the door, finishing inscribing the last rune.
“Now, let's leave this room for now.”
“Eh?!” said Waver.
Dumbledore raised his hand.
“Do not worry. I launched protective spells around this region. As long as we don't leave the corridor, the MacKenzie will not hear anything.”
‘When did he…you know what, better not to ask,’ thought Waver.
The trio went out of the room. Thankfully, there was no sign of Glen or Martha: they should still be asleep, as it was early morning.
Dumbledore put one of his hands in the door. He started to chant.
“Oh, home of the brave lion, the cunning snake, the wise eagle, and the hardworking badger, provide me with my needs. I call for thee, Castle of Requirement, Hogwarts.”
Waver felt a shiver in his spine. It was the same thing that happened when his Servants said the name of their Noble Phantasms before. Did that mean that-
The door let out a multicolored shine -red, green, yellow and blue, all in sequence.
Dumbledore nodded his head as if reading his mind. “Indeed. This is my second Noble Phantasm. Now, let's enter. I would recommend you brace yourself.”
Before Waver could ask why, the Caster opened the door.
“!”
“Oho! So interesting!”
The plain bedroom that Waver was using was no more. Instead, they were inside a round room, with a wooden desk in the middle. Two large shelves filled with books were in the back, and a few spindly tables had silver instruments making weird noises. A perch was in front of the desk, having no sign of ever being occupied except for a few orange and red feathers.
“Is this your office?”
“What does it seem like to you, boy?!”
Waver nearly jumped three feet in the air when he heard the voice.
“Who said that?” asked Rider.
“Right in front of you.”
They turned to face the talking picture.
Waver had to kick himself for not noting the giant frame earlier, but there was a man with a long, white beard, and exquisite robes. Compared to Dumbledore, his skin seemed paler.
“Hello, Armando,” said Dumbledore. “I hope I did not bother you.”
“You sure did bother someone,” grumbled a rougher voice.
Waver looked at the other pictures of the room. All of them with people inside of them, and all of them moving. Some were snoring, some looking away, but most looking at him and Rider.
In particular, a man with black hair and a beard glared at them with fire in his eyes.
“Hmph,” grumbled the man. “I hope that this is not a mudblood, Dumbledore. Or at least that is someone of noble lineage.”
‘Mudblood?’ thought Waver, confused.
“Shove it, Nigellus,” said Armando. “Such concepts do not apply to this world. Don't torment the poor boy.”
Nigellus huffed, then he…
Waver had to blink twice. Yes, Nigellus moved out of his portrait to that of another man, clearly grumpy with the arrangement.
“Blast! I can't even go to another portrait to avoid this boy!”
“Caster?” asked Waver. “What am I looking at? And where are we?”
The man sat at the chair behind the desk.
“As I'm sure you can tell, this is my office,” he started. “As I said to you and Rider earlier, my Noble Phantasm is one that I couldn't show there because I need to prepare it. You see, I was rather famous in the magical world while I was alive.”
He swung his wand. A few papers appeared in the air. Newspapers, all of them about Dumbledore. The pictures moved, giving nods to the visitors.
“Chief Warlock. Supreme Mugwump. Professor of Defence against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. And, of course, Headmaster of Hogwarts.”
He shook his wand again. More papers appeared.
“During harsh times against a fearsome enemy, I stood up as the one that led the fight against him and his Death Eaters,” continued the mage. “I was considered by many the strongest mage of my era. People said that, as long as I was headmaster, Hogwarts was the safest place in Great Britain,” he chuckled sadly. “Of course, this is an exaggeration. I got worse at fending off threats with age, but I can see where people got this image. Thus, people knew me more for my position in the school than other feats -which is just fine for me.”
“I see…” said Iskandar. “So your connection with the school allows for the manifestation of this place. But I thought Hogwarts was a castle, not a single room?”
“A castle full of mystery, as the magus would say, with all the spiritual weight that it implies,” explained Dumbledore. “I think only a founder could make a full materialization. However, I managed to get around this by applying the runes. Their magic turned the bedroom into a Room of Requirement.”
“A Room of Requirement?” asked Waver.
Dumbledore nodded.
“Hogwarts was a place with many secrets. One of them was the Room of Requirement, or yet the Come and Go Room. It would provide whatever the user needed at the time. A place to hone your magic skills without anyone being aware. A room filled with hidden things. Even a place filled with chamber pots for those needing quick relief.”
Waver grimaced.
“I could have gone without that last part.”
“Don't be so modest, Waver!” said Iskandar. “A place like this seems interesting, especially if it has food or drinks!”
Dumbledore gave a sad smile.
“Unfortunately, that is one of the few things this room cannot do. The First Law of Gump dictates…” he stopped himself. “Hm, nearly went on a tangent here. Old habits die hard, you see. As I was saying, I can manifest this Room of Requirement by applying my Territory Creation skill, and through it, I can manifest different sections of Hogwarts to suit my needs. Do not worry about being noticed: the magic of the place will alter its proportions, but not the outside form."
“Thank god…” mumbled Waver. The last thing he wanted was the Church gunning him for blowing the cover of the Moonlit World. “So, about the frames?”
“Yes, the frames,” said the Caster of Hogwarts. “The men and women you face are the directors of Hogwarts. We, wizards, have spells that allow us to give life to the persons inside a picture or frame. Since the tenure of the first headmaster, it has been a tradition to put a picture of the ancestors to help the current head. Armando Dippet was the man that I succeeded.”
“With great elegance, I may add,” said Dippet. “I admit I was rather foolish in many of my plights.”
“We all had been,” retorted the Caster. “This is what makes us human at the end of the day. No better than muggles in that regard.”
Nigellus huffed at that.
“Well, I suppose this is enough of a History of Magic lesson,” said Dumbledore. “I hope I had been more entertaining than the ghost responsible for that lesson,” he gave a devilish smirk. “Even I admit to having slept one or two times in the lessons of Mister Binns.”
“How can a lesson with a ghost be boring?” complained Iskandar. “I would be beaming if Achilles was raised from the grave to teach my hetairoi.”
“All students asked the same question. And we never found the answer,” the man became lost in thoughts before continuing. “Enough lollygagging. Let's do business. Accio Pensieve!”
From the side, a metal basin flew, filled with a silvery liquid that surprisingly did not spill from the magical pull. Wait, was that gas? Waver wasn't sure now.
“Interesting artifact, man of Hogwarts,” said Iskandar. “What is the purpose of it, however?”
The older man gave a smile.
“Observe. But first…” He touched the tip of his wand on Waver's head. When he pulled it, a silver hair wire went out.
“What the-?!” exclaimed the Master, touching his head. “What is this?!”
“A memory,” said the Servant of Magic. “A recent one, at that. Again, observe.”
He put the silvery hair in the middle of the Pensieve. The “hair” dissolved in the liquid until…
“This is-!”
Indeed, it was the Tohsaka mansion, seen straight from Waver's familiar eyes.
“The Pensieve is one of the most useful artifacts that Hogwarts acquired,” said the Caster. “As long as you can extract the memory of someone, you can then put it inside to see their memories about specific events. In this case, I extracted your memory of watching the mansion.”
“Seeing memories…” said Iskandar. “You have yet to fail at impressing me, Dumbledore!”
The man then looked at the Pensieve, passing the moment that Assassin was slain.
“Hm, interesting…” commented the Rider. “Those weapons, they are different.”
“Different how? Both look like swords to me,” commented Waver. The Rider, however, shook his head.
“No. I recognize them both. The first one was an xiphos that the hoplites used to fight. And the second was an infantry sword, a makhaira.”
“So, one of the Servants of Tohsaka is a nutjob Saber that likes to throw his weapons?” asked the Master sarcastically.
“Don't be foolish, Master,” said the Servant of Cavalry. “He's an Archer.”
“Yeah, sure,” grumbled Waver before seeing that Rider had a serious expression. “Wait, are you considering that?”
“You could be surprised by what is considered a projectile, Waver,” said Iskandar. “Now, who -oh, my.”
His eyes widened at seeing the golden Archer.
“Yes, there is no doubt,” he hummed. “This man is like me.”
“Crazy?”
“A king,” corrected Iskandar. “Which may need a bit of madness to work, but that's not the point,” he smiled. “I want him.”
“You…want him?” asked Dumbledore.
“I can tell from a glance,” said Iskandar. “He's strong. If I ever recruit him to my army…yes, no amount of modern weaponry would stop my march.”
He drew his sword, pointing at the sky.
“Carry onward! We must recruit the golden Archer to the army!”
“Not inside the damn house, Rider!” said a panicking Waver, trying to stop the man from summoning his chariot. Not that it would work inside Hogwarts, considering the amount of protection, but better safe than sorry.
Caster of Hogwarts looked at the Pensieve, where the scene repeated. Dumbledore had the nagging feeling that something was amiss, but couldn't figure out what yet. That was no problem, though: he would have enough time to analyze the scene before the night. Then, he glanced back at Rider, who was, at cost, restrained by Waver, and now read one of the books with interest.
Conquering the world with an equal…
He glanced at the Elder Wand.
‘Bad memories tend to follow me. Don´t you agree, old friend?’
The sky. The last unconquerable frontier by the man. Or so Artoria thought on her time.
The King of the Knights couldn't quite explain her fascination with the sky, but she knew it began during her early days with Sir Ector. She was still young and excitable, and while knowing of her fate as the one that would become King of Britain, that still felt like a future Artoria worry. That when she wasn't wandering the city, helping other people with their problems -much to the worry of her brother in all but blood, Sir Kay.
‘You don't need to stop to help everyone,’ he always said. ‘A good knight is formed not only by the nobility of heart but also by a good body in a good mind. Now come, you still have to train a lot to surpass me.’
She never managed to outwit him: such was the might of the best speaker of Camelot.
Anyway, she sat at hills, tired from another long day of training and helping people, and knowing that Merlin, as always, would hone her spirit, to complement the physical routine of her adopted father and brother. She thought of the birds that flew in the sky silently. And of the dragons from which she inherited the power, mighty and free from fate. Even the finest archers couldn't hope to hit one of those flyers out of the sky without much effort.
The sky was a free space, untamed by all but the finest mages.
Needless to say, Artoria's first time in an airplane shattered all of her expectations.
“...Saber, are you with me?”
The Servant blinked.
“Excuse me, lady Iri. Could you repeat what you said?”
The homunculus giggled.
“I said that we are almost landing. You were so distracted that I thought it would be better to warn you.”
The knight blinked and looked back out of the window. Yes, she could see the battlefield of the Holy Grail War, the city of Fuyuki: a town split into past and future by a river.
“Excuse me, Irisviel. I suppose my fascination with the view had distracted me.”
“It's no big deal,” replied the woman. “I was the one who was sitting in that seat for most of the trip. Can I exchange back?”
The Saber complied, letting the woman take her original seat back.
“Wow, Fuyuki is so pretty from here!” she commented, admiring the view.
Besides the crew manning the plane -composed entirely of Einzbern homunculi -no other person was on the plane. Thus, the duo could get away with those maneuvers with no problem.
“So Kiritsugu was born here?”
The woman with silver hair shook her head.
“He can't remember where he was born. His father apparently wandered a lot when he was younger, but he has a property here, so I suppose he spent some time in the city.”
The knight hummed.
“Interesting…”
As she put on the safety belt, the knight left herself to lose in thoughts, as she remembered the last meeting with her Master…
20 hours ago
“We will split.”
It was with those words that Kiritsugu Emiya started the reunion.
“I beg your pardon?” asked Saber.
“We will split,” repeated Kiritsugu. “You are two, so it makes sense for you to split tasks.”
Shadow raised an eyebrow.
“Why?” asked the Lancer of the ARK.
Irisviel coughed.
“Our opponents in Fuyuki likely know about Kiritsugu being an employee of the Einzbern family,” explained the homunculus. “But they are unaware that he is a Master rather than a mercenary, as the representatives of the Einzbern in the previous battles were family homunculi like me.”
“And we will use this against them,” said the Magus Killer. “Saber, it came to my attention that you suffer from a condition that stops you from taking a spirit form.”
The King of the Knights nodded. She had brought the subject up to Irisviel in an earlier talk.
“It's not a mistake on your part,” replied the knight. “The circumstances are too complicated to explain with such little time, but yes, I can't use my spirit form.”
The mercenary nodded.
“I see,” he said. “In this case, I want you to protect Irisviel and act as her Servant.”
The Servant raised an eyebrow but nodded. Her code wouldn't allow her to leave a lady unprotected.
“And I suppose I will follow you, correct?” asked Shadow. “I am well aware that my appearance is too noticeable to ignore.”
“Correct,” said the man. “I have an associate in the city with most of my equipment. Once you escort me there, your orders are to rendezvous with Iri and Saber. Understood?”
The hedgehog nodded.
“Good. Jubstacheit charted two planes for us to use. Lancer and I will leave in an hour. After that, Saber and you go. We want to take them off my track as much as we can.”
The others nodded.
“Good. Dismissed,”
Saber let out a deep sigh. She had no trouble guarding Irisviel, but to see that her Master still didn't want to see her close was disheartening.
As the knight had no baggage to speak of, she decided to walk through the castle until the time came to leave.
‘Hmph. There's no reason to be upset, and yet…’
She agreed with the plan of Kiritsugu. It was something that Agravain would counsel her to deal with menaces, and while she didn't like it, sometimes agreed that it was necessary.
And yet, why did she feel so uncomfortable?
‘We focus more on reaching an end than on the means used to do so.’
It always came back to the words that Shadow said. Words that seemed to fit what she had seen from Kiritsugu so far.
‘But…isn't that line of thought dangerous?’
The end justifies the means. Artoria was more than familiar with those words. Vortigern said that, in his desperate attempts to protect the fading Age of Mystery. And so did many of the kings she fought in battle, trying to disguise their dirty deeds as noble acts.
As it turns out, they made the world worse with their “good” intentions.
Artoria couldn't accept a vision like that. Not when so many vile persons used the same excuse in attempting to avoid comeuppance.
She didn't notice that she was close to the kitchen until she felt the smell of food. ‘Weird. I didn't think that homunculi needed food.’ Then she remembered Kiritsugu and realized that it should be for his sake. ‘Maybe I could grab a bowl of whatever they were serving.’
Eating food always made her happy. Unless it was Gawain's cooking, but she doubted that modern cooks could ever match that level of bad.
She was about to enter the dining room when she heard the voice of Illya.
“But why?”
The knight stopped, nearly bashing against a homunculus carrying a silver platter.
“Sorry,” she said.
“...” the homunculi only nodded, going inside the room. Saber turned to leave but found herself unable to do so.
‘Move,’ she thought to herself. ‘It's not knightly to snoop in private talks.’
Yet, the curiosity of the King of the Knights took the best out of her code, and so she stayed behind the wall.
“But why?!” repeated Illya, a bit louder.
A pause. Then, Kiritsugu answered.
“Illya, I already told you. It's a business trip,” replied the man softly. He almost felt like a different man with the amount of warmth put in his voice. “We can't take you with us.”
“But I want to!” complained the little girl, in the same way, that most little girls do when they don't get what they want. “I want to see the sakura blossoms with you and Mom! You always said how pretty it was!”
Irisviel chuckled. Saber could imagine the older homunculus poking the little girl in the nose.
“This only happens in spring, Illya. The Holy Grail Wars always happened in December. Spring begins in March in Japan, like how it is here.”
“Awwww…” said the little girl. “But I still want to go. It's unfair that you and Daddy get to go there and I do not.”
She heard the sigh of Kiritsugu.
“I suppose many things are unfair in this world, my little princess,” said the man softly. “A Grail War is no place for children. But I can make a compromise. Once we return, we will take you to see the sakuras and all of Fuyuki. Would you like that?”
The little girl hummed with such intensity that Saber could hear clearly from her position.
“Hmmmmmmmmmm-! Fine, this time it will do! But I want to go on the next business trip! No arguments!”
Kiritsugu let out a sad chuckle.
“Of course, sweetie,” said the man. “You will be able to go to any place you want with Daddy…and Mommy.”
He lingered to finish the sentence, which sounded odd to Artoria, but Illya did not notice it.
“Yay! I want to go to China, Russia, Brazil-!”
“Hey, calm down Illya!” said Irisviel. “Make plans once we return. Then we can see what's best for the family. Can you do that?”
Saber could imagine the homunculus girl nodding.
“Good, good…” said Irisviel, with a certain bitterness. “We will see the world together…”
At this point, Saber decided that enough was enough and left the place. She had much to think about.
“The plane has finished the landing procedures,” said the homunculus. “We will transport the baggage so you have all day to explore.”
Saber nodded, lifting from her seat.
“Let's go!” said Irisviel, barely containing her joy. “Oh, this was so good! Flying through the skies was so exciting!”
“So you never traveled out of the country until now, lady Irisviel?” asked Saber.
The woman shook her head.
“I am a different type of homunculus, you see,” said Irisviel. “Jubstacheit wanted to minimize any risk of losing me. So I only know the world by the materials that Kiritsugu brought me about them. Oh, there are so many things that I want to try while we are here. If only we were here for tourism.”
She sighed, discontent. Then, she jumped back joyfully.
“Well, I suppose we should use the time we have to the best of our abilities. Still,” said the woman. “It's impressive how far we are, right? I mean, there is a whole ocean between here and Europe.”
The two went down the staircase until the ground.
“Indeed, it is,” said the King of Knights. “This airplane was so fascinating that I almost wish to have ridden it. With my Riding, I can conduct anything between my two legs,” Irisviel giggled. “Hm? Did I say something weird?”
The woman shook her head.
“It's nothing. Come on. I want to see the city.”
The women entered the limousine -this one handled by a human, although apparently, its rider was from some group that Kiritsugu knew in the area.
“Wow, so pretty!” cooed Irisviel as they passed through the city.
“We have pride in our city, ma'am!” said the driver. “From the traditionalist Miyama to the modern Shinto, we are proud of how damn good it is!”
Saber smirked.
“From high, it is quite a beauty,” she admitted. “Now, could you raise the window? My master and I need some privacy.”
The man nodded, raising a window between them until they couldn't see the man.
“Such a pleasant man,” said Irisviel. “Are all Japanese people like that?”
“Maybe yes, maybe not. Good and bad people are common all around the world.”
“Hm, I suppose you are right about that,” said the homunculus. “How are you feeling, Saber? Are these clothes to your liking?”
The knight looked at herself. She currently wore a dark suit with a necktie. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail, which, combined with her mannerisms, made her look like a man -the history of her life.
“It's surprisingly comfortable,” said the Servant of the Sword. “Those tailors in Frankfurt knew what they were doing,” she grimaced. “Although I question the need of having bought those other clothes.”
Irisviel gave a sheepish smile.
“Well, I got a bit too excited…Besides, we were going low on baggage anyway. A bit suspicious, no?”
Saber smiled, amused. Then, the car stopped.
“Good lord!” they heard the conductor say before hearing the sound of a door opening.
“What's going on?” asked Irisviel, alarmed. “Mister Motorist?!”
“Stay here!” said Saber. “I will see what's going on.”
As she exited the car, she saw many other people in the streets, looking shocked at the sky. Raising her head, she saw-
“Good lord, what is that?”
It was a body. But not on the ground, as one would expect.
The body was hanging upside-down from the top of a building.
“My god…” said Irisviel, getting out of the car. A few people took shots of the dangling body. “How did this happen?”
“It is…the killer.”
Saber turned to the driver -a man with shaggy black hair, a suit, and a red necktie. A pile of vomit soiled his pants.
“The killer?” asked the Servant of the Sword.
The man nodded.
“The freak…he's doing all the type of weird shit with the people he kills. I think it's the most visible act he did so far, though. And-” He coughed a bit. “The guy he killed was one of ours, from the Fujimura group.”
The woman turned back to the body.
“I'm sorry,” said Irisviel. “This must be-”
He raised his hand.
“Spare it. I…I'm new in this whole yakuza business. I don't have much-” he coughed before continuing. “Don't have much stomach for the dirty jobs.”
Saber analyzed the man. Contrary to Kiritsugu, he had a weak presence, as if he had never seen a dead body before.
Yet…
Why was her Instinct acting when she looked at him?
“Ugh…sorry, ladies,” said the driver. “I'm…not feeling very good. I can call other people to come and drive you, so…”
Irisviel, however, shook her head.
“It's alright,” said the woman. “I was thinking of walking through the city anyway. And don't worry about me getting in trouble,” she joyfully said. “My knight in shining armor will protect me.”
The man blinked, looking at Saber.
“Is that so, huh?” grumbled the man. “Good…good. I need to report this to my boss if he does not already know.”
Saber nodded.
“Take care, and do not force yourself,” said Saber.
The man looked at the blonde Servant.
“Huh, thought you were a guy…Sorry, that was a weird thing to say.”
“It's alright,” said the homunculus. “It's common.”
“Very common,” reinforced Artoria.
Irisviel gave a sideways glance. ‘Too much!’
“Send my regards to mister Fujimura! My husband always says good things about him!”
The man nodded silently, sitting on the bench of the car.
“Sure…Once I get my breath back. Have a good stay, ladies.”
The women started to leave, still looking at the poor yakuza when Irisviel bumped into a person.
“Sorry, I was-EEEP!”
Saber tensed up immediately, ready to fight. So distracted she was that she hadn't felt the presence that appeared close.
The man with the scar stared at her, knowing what she was.
“Relax. I do not wish to fight now,” said the scarred Servant. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with jeans. He held a plastic bag full of what seemed to be medicines. “I heard the noise and wanted to see what was the matter,” his eyes turned to the body. “Did any of you two do that?”
“You have a lot of nerve to suggest that,” said Saber, glaring daggers at the man. “We only arrived here.”
The man turned his attention back to the Servant of the Sword.
“I see…” mumbled the mysterious Servant. “Hmph. It must be that blasted serial killer. Sorry for interrupting your day.”
The man turned to follow his way.
“Wait,” asked Artoria. “Who are you?”
The red-haired man turned his head slightly.
“A name for a name,” he stated. “You first.”
She glanced at Irisviel, who nodded. Better to keep the appearances.
“Saber,” she said.
The man nodded slightly.
“Archer of Musutafu,” he declared before going on his way.
The women waited for the man to be far away to talk.
“Musutafu?” asked Irisviel. “I wonder where it is.”
“It probably does not exist in this world,” said Artoria. “Remember the pattern? If it goes by our Lancer, then it means that any Servant that identifies this way is the one that comes from another world.”
“I see…” said the homunculus. “Shame. I thought we could find a clue from that. I was thinking if someone couldn't be an alternate self of a historical figure from this world. Like a female Musashi Miyamoto!”
In a different parallel world, an udon enjoyer sneezed.
“Don't be silly, lady Irisviel,” said Saber. “Come on, we need to go on our way. The police should be coming soon…”
She turned to see the driver once more only to see the car, door wide open.
There was no sign of the man.
‘A murderer…’
Now, Enji Todoroki knew that this was not his fight. He was a Servant: the purpose of his summon was to defeat the other Masters and claim the Holy Grail that grants any wish. Even if this killer was unhinged in his pursuit for blood, vengeance, or whatever, that was not his problem.
On the other hand, Endeavor was a hero: a damn good one, he would say. Even if he was the Number Two hero for most of his career, he had a better record than some in the business since the beginning.
And he would be damned to let a hideous criminal like that escape his eyes.
‘Two Servant presences…one of them was the Saber. And the other appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared. The other half of the duo?’
It would make sense: there is strength in numbers. Saber works as the visible yet respectable menace, and the other works as their backup.
Or they could be unrelated. Maybe they were close to a Master's territory, and the Servant let his power out to know they were in enemy land.
‘But if so, they would also give away their hideout. And it was close to the crime scene.’
Could it be that the two events were related? Unfortunately, the Archer didn't have access to the resources that would facilitate his deductions, so he was grasping at straws.
He sighed. Maybe he could inform himself later about the subject, but now he had other things to do.
The man went out of his way to mislead any pursuers -the encounter with Saber left him alert. He could not enter in spirit form because he needed those medicines, but he had done some undercover jobs from time to time. Nothing too troublesome for him - but you never could be too assured.
When he was sure no one followed him, Endeavor gave a big u-turn and went through many more alleys before finally reaching the one he was looking for. Kariya sat beside a garbage can.
“Ugh…” said the man. “Kept me waiting.”
“I met one of the Masters on the way,” said Endeavor. “I did that to avoid tracking attempts, but I still recommend finding another hideout.”
The rogue Matou grumbled.
“I can't say if this even counts as a hideout…”
As it turns out, Kariya hadn't been paying his rent since six months ago, when Zouken decided he needed a more intense routine to match against another Master. So, the landlord had taken possession of the apartment back and sold almost everything there -although, mercifully, he had left the personal documents and the credit card untouched, which allowed Enji to sneak in and take them back.
Evicted and without enough money to afford a hotel room, Kariya decided that his options were either to return to the mansion or to sleep in the streets.
Three guesses for what was his choice, and the first two don't count.
The Archer of Musutafu grabbed one of the bottles, carefully putting the remainder on the ground. It cost half their money to get them, and Enji barely managed to get them because he was using Kariya's ID. Thank god that hypnosis was a relatively simple skill for a magus.
He pulled a painkiller out of the bag.
“Eat two of those for two to two hours,” said Enji. “Do not exaggerate.”
With a bit of difficulty, Kariya ate the pills.
“I think I have bigger worries than an overdose, Archer,” grumbled the white-haired man. “Death is almost certain for me after all of this ends.”
“...Nothing is certain in life,” replied the hero. “Not even death.”
His mind went to Touya. He thought of him as dead for years, and then…well, he knew well what happened.
“Oh, trust me,” said Kariya. “I know I am dying. Zouken will guarantee that happens, regardless of the result of the War. And don't pity me: I knew what kind of hell I was walking through once I accepted the offer.”
Yes, the offer. One of the most lopsided deals that Endeavor has ever seen.
“How can you guarantee that Zouken will fulfill the deal?” asked the hero of the flames. “He has all the cards in his hand.”
“He wants the Grail,” said Kariya. “And to see me suffer. If I give him both, he will forfeit his plans for the future.”
Enji raised an eyebrow while the Master grumbled.
“I know what you are thinking. That I was an idiot and should have found another way,” he bitterly laughed. “You are one year too late for that, Archer. The only road for me, after all, is said and done, regardless of the result, leads to hell. And I will drag him with me.”
Silence. Enji stares impassively at the man. Then, he closes his eyes.
“If you say so,” retorted the man. “But I suppose your priorities are a bit skewed, Master.”
The man burst into sparks, letting Kariya stare at the air.
“Skewed…” he grumbled. “What does he know about me?”
He glanced to the top of the building, where his other Servant was.
The knight in black armor, the one that led to the fall of Camelot by his forbidden love, Lancelot du Lac, stared at the horizon, murmuring the same word over and over again.
“Arthur…”
A few hours earlier
‘So that's what a city is usually like,’ thought Shadow.
Kiritsugu gave a sideways glance to the invisible Servant.
‘Not used to the movement?’
‘Correct,’ said the Lancer. ‘I spent most of my life either in space, asleep, or running from the authorities. Not much time to ‘feel the sunshine,’ as someone I knew would say.’
Kiritsugu picked up the cigarette package and then blinked. He hadn't smoked in nine years, for consideration to his wife and daughter. ‘I guess that old habits die hard.’ He considered throwing the package away, but eventually, he put it in his pocket and went on.
He made a detour into a convenience store, buying a lighter. Then, once he went out on the streets, he popped the package up, put one of the papers in his mouth, and lit it.
POOF!
It felt as if he had never stopped. The cloud of smoke came out naturally.
Fuyuki…
Well, not Fuyuki in specific. His father had never said where his birthplace was. But Kiritsugu had spent a considerable amount of time in the city, observing the situation of the families and the terrain from Miyama and, later, Shinto. Besides that, he also helped the Fujimura group in many ways, gathering their support for the battle.
If anything, the city was the closest thing he had to a homeland.
(He didn't consider the Einzbern castle: for all the time he had with Irisviel and Illya, he knew that his place was not there. And Alimango Island and Natalia's spot…well, those are big cans of worms that the man didn't want to explore)
Anyway, Kiritsugu couldn't explain, but he felt well in Japan. No matter how many places he traveled, Japan still felt like the place he fit right.
‘Are you done brooding?’ asked Shadow. ‘How long until the hotel?’
Kiritsugu left the cigar on the ground and stepped on it.
‘Don't act like you weren't meditating as well,’ said the Magus Killer. ‘And we are close.’
The Servant scoffed but didn't deny anything. From the -admittedly few -memories that he had seen in the flight to Fuyuki, Lancer was very much unaware of the more mundane aspects of life. Still…
‘A space colony, huh? That's new. And who is Maria?’
The same could be said about Saber's even fewer memories. Glimpses in her life as a king, and then…
‘How can she pledge for chivalry when her efforts to enforce it resulted in suffering and misery?’
“We're here.”
Kiritsugu glanced at the hotel. While the Hyatt was the top hotel in the city, Fuyuki received enough tourists that it was profitable to open a smaller business. Maiya had taken one of the lower-ended ones as her hideout, away from the eyes of the Tohsaka and the Matou.
“I'm looking for room 73,” he asked at the reception. It was more of a formality, as he already knew the way from Maiya's messages, but he didn't want to call much attention.
The receptionist indicated the way, and the man climbed until finding the room. Beating at the door on a rhythm previously combined, the owner of the room let him in.
“Maiya,” he said. “What is the situation?”
The woman stared at the man. Her eyes had slightly dark circles, but all-nighters weren't anything new to either of them.
“I am sure that the situation was a set-up, but I have yet to determine the nature of it.”
“Speak more.”
It was to her credit that she didn't get scared from the sudden appearance of Lancer, sitting at the bed.
“So I didn't read wrong…” grumbled the mercenary. “Your other Servant was a hedgehog. I was unsure of having understood that right.”
She glanced at her mentor, who shrugged.
“Shortening a long story, all those Servants do not belong in this world. Lancer comes from a universe where…what was the term that you used?”
“Mobians,” explained Shadow. “This is at least the term that professor used to refer to beings that are…’similar’ to me.”
“Yes, that…” grumbled Kiritsugu. From what he got, his Lancer had something of an ego about his condition as the Ultimate Lifeform. “So these mobians are beings similar to other animals, only bipedal.”
Maiya nodded.
“I see. Surprising, but understandable.”
She asked no further questions, instead indicating the camera. Kiritsugu nodded: they had time to see it, and perhaps further insight would reveal the truth.
After seeing the video, the magus killer turned to his assistant.
“What do you have?”
She passed a paper.
“Everything seems too convenient. And the actions that Kotomine took contradict all of the profiles we made. Treasons are common in the world of the magi, but…”
“Kotomine is anything but common,” finished Kiritsugu. “Anything else?”
She indicated two recent registers.
“The only Servant of the alliance to not appear was the additional Servant of Tohsaka. If we interpret his reaction as one of anger, then it could fit with the story they are trying to tell: an alliance to backstab Tokiomi that he knew of, and the other Servant of Kotomine -most likely a Saber -decided to cut his losses and ally with the winning side. Besides that, contacts in the underworld say that Risei Kotomine sent an order for an arm prosthesis to the Church.”
“Of course, he would collaborate with Tohsaka,” said Kiritsugu. “But we cannot discard any possibilities.”
The two mercenaries went silent. Both studied Kirei Kotomine enough that they couldn't rashly discard possibilities. Shadow broke the silence.
“It was a set-up.”
He was holding the camera, analyzing one particular image. The moment that Kotomine was stanching his cut arm.
“Look at this part.”
He was pointing at a pink flower petal.
“A sakura petal?” asked Maiya.
“No, it's still too early,” replied Kiritsugu. “They only come in spring, and there is no tree like that close to the estate.”
He then glanced at Kotomine's hand.
“He's trying to stop them from escaping his robes,” said the mercenary. “He didn't want anyone seeing this. So this can only be-”
“Magic,” concluded the Lancer of the ARK. “Or a Noble Phantasm, which is all the same.”
Kiritsugu crossed his arms.
“So this Assassin…can he ‘sprout’ body parts? Or is that a fake arm?”
That seemed an irrelevant question, but it mattered much. It was the difference between busting an enemy's arm, only to be stabbed by the true one, or to be strangled from afar.
“We can't say now,” said Shadow. “For all we know, it can be something so wild that it escapes even the wildest imagination.”
Kiritsugu sighed. The Lancer raised a good point.
“Still,” he said. “The intent of this is evident. It's a show of strength.”
Maiya nodded.
“Three servants, one of them obliterating a Servant in two attacks with extreme precision. Add to the fact that the Tohsaka estate is a magical fortress, and it's all obvious.”
“Hmph,” grunted Shadow. “Three or thirty, they can't hope to match against me.”
“Beware,” warned his Master. “Hubris was the fall for many powerful men.”
“And I do not question that,” Heck, Eggman was a living example of that. “I say what I believe, simple as that.”
The man closed his eyes. The Servant didn't say that with arrogance; he stated it as a fact.
“No use in lingering on Tohsaka's plans,” he grumbled, turning to Maiya. “Still, sending a scout to the Church won't harm.”
“The Church is a neutral land, sir,” replied the assistant. “If someone sees the scout-”
“Do it from a distance, then. Hide our intent to the best of your ability.”
Maiya nodded.
“Understood. I will send a familiar immediately.”
As Maiya prepared one of her bats, Kiritsugu turned his eyes to the other bed in the room.
“Did you manage to get everything I asked?”
The woman nodded. Good, he didn't expect less from Maiya.
If one were to compare Kiritsugu Emiya's arsenal to what other mercenaries in the Moonlit World used, it would be like comparing rocks to gold nuggets. Sure, he employed the occasional Geas contract from time to time, but those were easy to make. No daggers, ritual equipment, nothing like that. Only the finest modern weaponry, the type of thing that would make any magus of high standing a mockery by daring to use it.
Unfortunately for them, Kiritsugu couldn't give less of a shit about what others thought of him. And ironically, they were at their weakest when put against such an arsenal, preparing for magical duels in the erroneous conclusion that he would employ the same methods.
There was no secret for the efficiency of the Magus Killer: if his targets could see beyond their pride, he wouldn't have such a body count.
He caressed some of the weapons. Two Calico submachine guns, a variety of grenades, claymores, C4, two assault rifles, and, doubtlessly the strongest weapon of all, a Walter WA200 sniper rifle, a high-caliber rifle with both a night and a thermal scope, excellent for the night duels of the Holy Grail War and for detecting the presence of a magus by seeing the heat that their Magical Circuits generated.
And even then, that wasn't his finest weapon.
A rosewood case lays beside where Shadow sat, where his trump card was. He opened it and sighed at the sight.
All the weaponry he just mentioned was recent, arranged by Maiya with much effort. That, however, was his trump card, entrusted to the woman he saved so long ago when he went to live in the Einzbern castle almost a decade ago.
He grabbed his Thompson Contender Custom, feeling its weight for a second. Then, picking one of the Origin Bullets inside, he quickly loaded it into the weapon, pointing at an invisible enemy.
“Two seconds,” said the mercenary, snapping his tongue. “I'm out of practice.”
He looked again at the gun. Was it his imagination or that felt heavier than his daughter? Who could say.
“Interesting…” grumbled Lancer, holding one of the weapons -a Steyr AUG A1, a favorite of Maiya.
“Have you ever handled a firearm, Lancer?” asked the mercenary.
“No, such things were beneath me at the time,” replied the Servant. “Though, I wish to test something. May I have a magazine?”
Not knowing where this was going, the woman complied. At the moment that Shadow picked the object, he already removed the clip on the weapon, picked the airborne one, and reloaded it before the one he removed fell to the floor. All in the space of around three seconds, when it took at least six to a human to reload.
“For a newbie, you sure have a talent for that,” replied the mercenary blandly.
“More than you imagine,” replied the hedgehog, aiming at invisible enemies. Meanwhile, Kiritsugu was scratching his chin.
He knew exactly why his Servant was so skillful in using guns.
‘Could this be a result of Natural-Born Fighter?’
Natural-Born Fighter was one of the skills that Shadow had. According to him, it represented his condition as an engineered weapon of war, allowing him to inherit some battle-related abilities at any time. He hadn't given it too much when he first saw it, but now he wondered if they could use that in their favor.
‘Shame that normal weapons don't affect Servants,’ he thought. ‘Otherwise, a few sniper shots or a trap with explosives would be enough to win it all.’
He put that thought on the back burner.
“Lancer, your orders are to find Irisviel and Saber,” said Kiritsugu. “Night is coming.”
The Servant nodded, disappearing in a cloud of mana.
“...”
Kiritsugu glanced at the setting sun. A few more hours and the war would officially begin. If he was correct, someone would seize the initiative and try to get the field advantage.
The wait would kill him.
“Are you alright?”
He turned to Maiya.
“No,” he said. “Those memories that ran through my mind…the bloody past that I return…all of these swirl in my thoughts, like a hurricane.”
The hands of the assistant went around his neck.
“That will not do,” she replied. “Almost a decade ago, when you went to live in the Einzbern castle, your final orders to me was to make you the man you once were. Discard those memories of yours, Kiritsugu: only think of the necessary.” Then, she pulled to kiss him.
Neither he nor Maiya felt anything. Compared to the kisses he and Irisviel had exchanged in the past, there was no heat in that, a lack of passion. They were two machines, one trying to put the other to work again. Or, as Kiritsugu saw, the preparation for treason.
Unaware to him was the set of eyes that watched him from afar.
“What is the meaning of this, after all?”
Shadow was not a social figure. That was something he had no shame in admitting. But even he could say that was not something acceptable. He knew that Irisviel and his Master were married and looked meaningful for both of them, to the point of having a child.
So why was he doing that? Should he do something about it? That faker would try to do something about it.
“But I am not him,” he grumbled.
Unlike Sonic, he didn't have a passionate wish to put his nose in other people's business.
Besides, he had his orders.
‘But…maybe a talk is needed,’ he thought.
The Servant snapped his fingers, disappearing into a snap of light.
Interactions with Servants aside, Artoria thought that the tour through Fuyuki was without worries.
It was rather adorable seeing Irisviel gushing about the smallest things: the movement of the people, the streets filled with cars, the cafes, the birds. Ever since the homunculus left the car, there was no end to her admiration of the city.
‘I could have driven it, now that I think about it,’ reflected the Servant of the Sword. But, she was so confused by the presence of the Servant(s?) and the crime scene where she let herself be led by the excited Einzbern.
Well, not that it was a bad thing. In the car, the wife of Kiritsugu was shy about going on her own through the streets, to the point that Artoria nearly raised the subject before being interrupted. What was the expression? Every cloud has a silver lining?
Anyway, there were no more meetings with Servants, which she half-expected. The meeting with the Archer of Musutafu put her on alert, but it was a coincidence. And then…
She shook her head. There was no sign of that driver being anything other than a human being. But her Instinct had never failed her: something seemed off about him. What if he was…
“Saber?”
She turned her head to the homunculus. They were on a beach, following the wishes of the woman.
“Excuse me, lady Irisviel,” said the knight, bowing. “It's rather shameful of me as your escort to be so distracted today.”
She giggled.
“Don't be so harsh on yourself, Saber. If it means anything, you were a fine gentleman today. A first-class knight, I may add.”
“Your words fill me with warmth,” said the Servant of the Sword, smiling. “It's a great honor.”
The two stared at the ocean. The moon reflected its light on it, giving a silvery shine to the water.
“Do you like the sea, Saber?” asked Irisviel.
“I can't say that I do,” replied the King of Knights. “The sea is where the enemies of Camelot came from. It has no fault, but I can't help but dislike it.”
“I see…such a shame,” replied the homunculus, her knees close to the chin. “It was not fair. Once you became king, you had no time to enjoy yourself, to be free. You couldn't be a woman.”
Artoria shrugged.
“It couldn't be helped: what my country needed at the time was a strong leader, and this is what I was trained to be since young. The rest was secondary.”
Besides, she wouldn't say she felt ashamed of discarding those parts of herself. She felt pride in leading her knights in battle, accomplishing her fate decided at birth.
“Milady,” asked Saber. “I have one question for you: wouldn't you rather spend this time we had together with Kiritsugu rather than me?”
For all the grievances that Artoria had with Kiritsugu, she could tell that the love between the two was genuine.
Irisviel gave a sad smile.
“Ah, he can't,” said the silver-haired woman. “This would grief him.”
Saber had to hold back her tongue, feeling a bit of anger.
“What kind of man wouldn't spend time with his wife…knowing that her time is running short?”
Irisviel slowly turned, shocked.
“How did you…”
“I had a guess,” said the knight. “You only confirmed it. I…heard you and Kirtisugu talking with Illya, and something felt off.”
Artoria looked down. Irisviel noticed that she felt ashamed of that.
“It was no trouble,” said the homunculus. “I only didn't realize you were close, so…But what gave it away?”
“I…am not sure,” said the knight. “But the way you were talking with Illya…there was a sense of finality that wasn't present in Kiritsugu's voice. He knew that there was the chance of not returning: yours had the certainty of not returning.”
Silence. Then, Irisviel sighed.
“I suppose there's no issue in confessing. How much do you know about homunculi, Saber?”
“... admittedly, not much,” replied Artoria. “But I know they are artificial beings that grow fast and have a short lifespan.”
Irisviel nodded. It made sense that she would be familiar after all: her son (daughter?) Mordred was said to be one such being. She continued.
“Much of the fame of the Einzbern revolves around its homunculi, who can do many tasks. We do that to garner enough power to win the Holy Grail War and recover the lost Magic, Heaven's Feel. In all the iterations of the War, the Einzbern created a homunculus to carry the vessel for the Grail. I am one such unit, created a decade ago with this intent.”
“A decade ago…”
Artoria didn't feel disturbed when she first saw Mordred -maybe because of her shock at the identical stranger ahead of her and the anger at Morgan Le Fay for going so far in her machinations, lashing at the until-then loyal knight.
‘One more regret to the pile,’ she thought bitterly.
But to see that Irisviel was barely older than Illya, who looked her age, was a shock.
“So, if your work is to make the vessel…” started Artoria, only for Irisviel to nod.
“Six months. One year. It doesn't matter how things go in this war, my life will end soon,” said the homunculus with sadness. ‘And closer than you think.’ she added silently.
Silence. Saber felt a presence behind them, finally manifesting, but relaxed.
“I knew someone like that.”
Irisviel turned to the Lancer of the ARK, deciding to make his presence known.
“Someone like me…how?” asked Irisviel.
The hedgehog paused before answering:
“Someone with the days counted.”
His mind returned to those days when he and Maria would stare at Earth from ARK, wondering what kind of things they could do together.
“Shadow…” started Saber, only to be interrupted by him.
“I don't need your pity,” he said. “It was something that happened too long ago,” ‘and yet it still hurts today.’ “All I want to say is that I understand your circumstances, Irisviel. Or at least, I think I do.”
“You do, huh…”
The three stared at the moon for a minute.
“Why not wish to live longer?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“To the Grail,” repeated Shadow. “It can grant any wish, correct? If we have two wishes, then…”
She raised her hand.
“No,” replied the homunculus. “Please, Lancer. This is a situation that I knew would happen for years. Don't give me hope now, when I made up my mind already.”
Besides, what would happen to the Holy Grail if she did that?
“Besides, I feel that there will be only one wish for the Master of the Servants,” she added. “The dream of Kiritsugu is more important than whatever ambition we three combined have.”
“A dream that makes it worth leaving the side of his wife in her final days?” retorted the knight, trembling with indignation. “That would make happiness painful?”
“Yes,” said Irisviel simply. “Because a cold heart is needed to carry this mission.”
‘A cold heart?’ wondered Shadow, remembering the scene he saw earlier. No passion, only a mechanical reaction. ‘Was that an attempt to achieve that?’
Before any other words could be uttered, a presence echoed through.
“!”
The three turned to the source of that power.
“A Servant…” grumbled Shadow. “Alone? If he thinks he can outspeed me, then he's in for a bad surprise.”
He felt the gloved hand of Saber on his shoulder.
“Wait. Remember that we are not the only side with two Servants,” she said. “This is an invitation.”
“Yeah,” said the hedgehog. “For a trap. We should end him while he's out of his territory.”
“But what if that is his plan?” said Artoria. “No, better if we move together and protect Irisviel. We lack the advantage of a battlefield of our choice, but it's better than being stabbed in the back by an Assassin or a Caster.”
The hedgehog closed his fists, before sighing.
“You do have a point,” he admitted. “Although I do not like the idea of giving the enemy the initiative.”
“Don't worry,” said Irisviel. “I have a tracker in my coat. Kiritsugu will be able to follow us whenever we go.”
Saber nodded, glancing at Shadow.
“Disappear for now. Better to have you in the back before the enemy reveals their Servant.”
Shadow nodded, disappearing into his spirit form.
“You do seem to have some thoughts on the matter, milady,” asked Saber.
“I do, I dare say,” replied the homunculus. “If they wish to challenge you in such a straightforward manner, then it means that we should wait for at least one Servant capable of close combat. Part of me hopes, however, that this could be solved with as much ease as one sword blow.”
The Servant turned to the bait, slowly walking in its direction.
“Unfortunately, the world does not work this way, lady Irisviel.”
“Why are we so damn high?!”
If someone said that Waver would have to grapple for his dear life on the top of a bridge arch with a height of 50 meters, he would ask why that person conjectured such an oddly specific situation.
Yet, here he was.
“Ah, do not complain, Master!” said Rider, sitting at the top of the damn thing like a kid in a playground while drinking some wine that he bought with Waver's money. “We have the best seats in the house! A good place to see the action whenever it is!”
“Hm, yes, it is a good spot,” said Dumbledore, who was on foot and eating jelly beans. “But not the finest spot I saw in my life. I had this private seat in the Puddlemere United arena that was close enough to see all the names of the brooms, yet far enough to not be hit by a stray bludger. Ah, those games of quidditch were the great ones.”
“What in the hell is a quidditch and why does it involve brooms and bludgers?!”
“Hmph. I am leaving, Tokiomi,” said Gilgamesh. “It seems that a source of entertainment has appeared for me.”
The man bowed his head slightly.
“As you wish, king of Uruk,” said the magus. “Do you have any wish for me?”
“Do not worry,” said the Archer. “I will be in the city after this next battle.”
He had set his mind on talking with the man named Kirei Kotomine but knew that his anchor (he refused to call him Master) would oppose that decision heavily. Not that he cared for his opinion, but better not to cause chaos on purpose.
After all, didn't Tokiomi prove himself to be more than the eye could see?
He turned to the other two Servants in the room.
“You are free to follow me if you so wish,” said the arrogant man. “But beware: if you step in my aim, I shall have no mercy on you.”
The man disappeared in a cloud of gold sparks.
King Bradley rose from his seat, where he had been distractingly reading a book.
“Hm, I suppose this is an offer that I cannot refuse,” said the Saber of Amestris, adjusting his uniform. “And you, Nico Robin? Shall you join us today?”
The Assassin of Ohara shook her head.
“Miss Asako is already taking care of the surveillance of this battle. There is no need for me to be present.”
“Besides,” added Tokiomi. “Once her powers are revealed, the illusion we put over the other Masters about me and Kirei's relationship will crumble. Thus, she waits.”
‘A rather convenient arrangement for me,’ thought the Assassin. Now, all she needed was-
“I will also not return to this home today, Tohsaka,” said Bradley. “I will direct myself to the Church to verify how my Master is.”
“Hm, I can't say that I approve of that, but I understand your worry,” said Tokiomi. “I trust you to be discreet about this? If so, then you have my approval.”
‘Jackpot.’
There was her opening. Her smirk was hidden by the book she held.
The man with the eyepatch nodded, leaving the room. He had to take care to control his emotions else he would crush the knob of the door he closed behind him. That was easier than he thought.
‘How do you do it?’
“I will get my answers, Kirei Kotomine. One way or the other.”
But first, he had a meeting with war, his old friend.
“...”
“...”
“...”
The three men of the team Matou were silent. One by situation, two by option.
There was no need to talk. Their objective was ahead of them.
“What to do, what to do…”
Adachi discarded the knife he used to the side. The couple hugged each other into a deadly embrace, connected by an iron bar he ripped from the fence outside and used to kill them in their sleep.
“Hm, not my best work, but Caster took the remaining material.”
He shivered a bit. The obsession of Bluebeard with little children creeped him out. Not that he had space to talk after what he did with Nanako -it still eluded him how she survived that.
“Now, back to the question.”
On one hand, Gilles and Uryuu seemed more interested in keeping killing people than fighting the war. On the other, he had independence in how to act.
“Ah, screw it. I'm going in.”
He turned to the couple.
“Hope that you have a nice room in the afterlife…Nah, messing with ya,” he said chuckling before closing the door loudly.
The dead don't hear anything, after all.
The group followed the sign to the dockyards. Lancer of the ARK was in the back, looking for potential attempts at an ambush, while Saber stared at their opponent.
“Salutations,” said a smooth masculine voice. “The others, parading around the city, had no courage to answer my challenge. I praise you for being willing to step up.”
The man appeared from the shadows, and Saber analyzed him: light clothes to allow fast movement and a pad on the left shoulder for protection. His face was beautiful: even Artoria, one that is not of giving care to such things, had to admit it, with the smooth hair and the mole under his right eye being of note.
What drew her attention, however, were the two spears he held with ease: one red and large, one golden and short, both mostly covered by purple bandages. Maybe a way to protect their identity: she did the same with Excalibur by using Invisible Air.
“Hm, the majesty that you hold…” said the man, analyzing Saber with experienced eyes. “Would it be correct to assume you are one of the Saber servants?”
Artoria nodded. With a thought, she donned her battle gown, sword in her hands.
“You would be correct. And this air, those blades…Not only are you a Lancer, but I can tell you are a hero of fine value.”
“You honor me,” declared the dual-wielder. “Alas, if this were the ancient times, I would be positively thirsty for a good battle against someone of your caliber.”
“Alas, this is beyond our control,” said the wielder of the invisible blade. “We serve other men as the extension of their wills on the battlefield.”
“So it seems,” he said, with some bitterness. “A shame that honor is secondary for the mages of this period. Alas, I would recommend that you call your partner, and be prepared, for we won't hold anything back.”
Saber raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted by the allures of the Lancer (where those thoughts were coming from?) and trying to figure out what he meant. His partner? She couldn't see him any-
TWIIIING!
Her Instinct reached the answer first. A surprise attack, coming from-!
“Chaos Control!”
CRASH!
Before Saber even had time to raise her sword, the Lancer of the ARK left his spirit form to save her and Irisviel.
“Dammit, I missed it!”
Then the voice uttered some words in a language only Irisviel could understand, judging by her blush. But that was not the focus of the Servants. Rather it was in the enemy.
They couldn't see things from the torso below, covered by the ocean, but even then, it was huge, bigger than many of the giants that Artoria fought in her time. The armor was red in the torso and orange in the arms -one of them retracting from the failed attempt at crushing Irisviel and Artoria into a pulp in the ground -with touches of black. Its face also had some touches of white, with a purple region close to the neck.
“What is that?” asked Saber. “Did they summon some kind of giant?”
Shadow glared.
“No. If I had to guess…”
The machine winded up for another attack.
“This is one of the enemy Riders.”
Caster of Hogwarts
True Name: Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore
Title: Headmaster of Hogwarts (at its insistence)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Alternate Classes: Assassin
Parameters:
Strength: E
Endurance: E
Speed: C
Mana: A
Luck: B
Noble Phantasm: B
Class Skills:
Item Construction - C+
Allows for the manufacture of magical items with diverse applications. Dumbledore is a fully formed student of Hogwarts, thus knowing most of the practices taught there, from potions to herbology. He's also able to use his magic to enchant mundane items and grant them magical properties. However, he excels the most in Transfiguration - turning one thing into another. Thus, he gains a plus modifier when doing so.
Territory Creation - -
Sublimed into Noble Phantasm.
Personal Skills:
Magecraft (Wand) - A(A+)
A different kind of thaumaturgy than the one taught in the Clock Tower, with different foundations. Rather than having magical circuits, the mages in Caster's world are born with the innate potential to use magic and utilize their wands to further increase their power. For good reason, Albus Dumbledore was considered one of the greatest wizards to ever exist, thus he received the highest rank a human could acquire, allowing for great feats even without a wand. Further improved to A+ when wielding his Elder Wand.
High-Speed Incantation -A
Can speak magical incantations at heightened speeds. More of a side-effect of his magic style, but even then Dumbledore was known to perform complicated spells while barely uttering a word.
Charisma -B-
A natural talent in commanding, increasing the power of allies in battle. It was always said that Dumbledore had the potential to lead Wizard Britain as the leader…however, he never accepted that fate. He knew that such things only led to suffering for him and way too many others. “This is my weakness, you see,” he said once. “Power. It corrupts me: thus, I can't ever lead.” With that said, this mindset reduces the rank of this skill to B-, although he's still a very strong leader.
Noble Phantasm
Elder Wand - The Deathly Hallow of Might
Rank: C (A)
Type: Anti-Unit (Self)
Caster's first Noble Phantasm. One of three legendary artifacts called the Deathly Hallows, said to have been given to three brothers by Death itself in an attempt to claim their lives under the pretext of rewarding them. Dumbledore simply suspects these are, in truth, powerful relics created by the three brothers in the story that would come to become infamous for their unique properties. An invisibility cloak that would never fade away and always protect its user. A stone that could return the dead to the living, even if only temporarily. And, the first of them, a wand that surpassed all the other wands.
He obtained this Hallow after defeating his former lover, Grindelwald, in a showdown that shook down the core of the magical world. Made of elder wood and having the hair of a Thestral as its source of power, this fifteen-inch tool possesses many unique traits that made it different from its peers besides the sheer power. Contrary to other wands, who semi-consciously select their users and stay loyal to them unless stolen, the Elder Wand only respects one thing: might. While it is possible to obtain this by non-lethal means, the confusion brought by the legend meant that this Phantasm possesses a bloody story.
As expected from a Phantasm with such a story, this catalyst enhances Caster's Magecraft to a level beyond humans. And, as legend said, it can be passed to others as long as the opponent is a sorcerer himself.
However…the Elder Wand also recognizes that Dumbledore is no longer its rightful user. It just knows. Thus, it receives a two-rank degradation as a result of this.
Hogwarts - The Castle of Requirement
Rank: B
Type: Fortress
Caster's second Noble Phantasm reflects his greatest position of power as the headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's no exaggeration to say that most, if not all, upcoming wizards of the United Kingdom passed through the rooms of that place. And, below only the four founders, none of them was as infamous as Albus Dumbledore, who was the headmaster of the institution for more than thirty years. His sheer reputation made the place a stronghold against the forces of darkness, being, for many years, considered “the safest place in magical Britain,” with such fame only disappearing after his death. Thus, it's no surprise that Caster can summon that place.
However, for Dumbledore, full materialization is a task that nears the impossible even with lots of mana. Hogwarts is a place that radiates mystery from top to bottom, and only one of the four founders could ever summon it in its full glory. However, Caster's magical prowess allowed him to find a way to summon fractions of the place: by subliming his Territory Creation skill into this Phantasm, Dumbledore can turn any one room into a “Room of Requirement,” an advanced spell inspired by one of the many rooms in the Castle of Hogwarts. He can only keep one of those up at the time, but, once he enters, the room he enters will always be where he needs to be. A dungeon to create potions, a room to train his spells, a library, his office as headmaster, and many others are accessible. If the door to the Room of Requirement is destroyed he can always choose another one to anchor Hogwarts, albeit with the caveat of this being a costly ritual.