Eyyyyy! New fanfic and it's taking place in the 4th Grail War. Woot! Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or the Fate Series. Both are owned by their respective creators.
Night 1 part 1: Madness
Let silver and steel be the essence!
Hm? A summoning? Why? A Servant of the future is a rare occurrence. Who is this potential Master?
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be…the foundation.
Let…red be the color I pay tribute to.
Raise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal ga-agh! Gates close.
Pain? During a summoning? Interesting…your voice speaks of anguish, yet you trudge forward through the pain. I'll listen…let me hear your resolve!
From the Crown, come forth and follow the forked road to the Kingdom.
Let it be filled. Again… Again… Again. Again!
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, then simply destroy with every fill.
That's it. Your voice speaks clearly a little more now. Loyal. But it's more than that… Your soul is screaming. You've sold it to the proverbial devil. For what?
Let…my will create thy body and thy sword create my fate!
If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me!
Is it so easy to gamble your life? What would you gain from this, Master? What would victory do that would equal if not be of greater value than your soul?
I hereby swear,
I…will be all that is -guh-good in the eternal world,
I…will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world.
To regain a girl's lost smile? To purify the taint off her body? You'd endure pain to save another? For that, I commend you. Your mana is weak; however, supplied by another -parasites… Filth I'm quite familiar with.
But! Let…c-gahack! Chaos cloud thine eyes
Thou, who art trapped in a cage of madness!
And I, who doth hold thy chains!
…I see. You're cornered. Desperate to save this innocent soul. Very well. I…will answer to your summons.
Thou clad with the Great Trinity,
Come forth from the circle of restraint,
Guardian of the Heavenly scales!
But I won't submit to madness.
A man in an orange hooded cloak and equipped with the most sparkling silver breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves. A lanky man, adorned with the whitest mop of hair, cringed, and kneeled on one knee; the fatigue caused by his summoning cost some damage. Another man, elderly and hunched with a face like an imp, frowned upon the appearance of this armored man.
The armored man stood up. Kariya, the lanky Master who summoned this…Servant, stared at what seemed to be a knight. "Um…" Kariya started to say. The knight refused to speak. His eyes were closed. To the man, it almost seemed like his Servant was in the middle of waking up. And unlike the intended result, this Servant looked calm. Completely calm despite the class he was intended to be.
Piercing, blue eyes stared at weak…faded ones. Kariya reeled back slightly. From this light, Kariya guessed the Servant had spiky, blond hair underneath that hood of his. Calm fury stared right at Kariya. The Servant closed his eyes as if he, Kariya, was not the intended target of this fury. The Servant reopened his orbs of blue, and pointed them at Kariya's father, Zouken. The impish, old man became petrified under the blizzard, cold stare. Karina could only stare at the spirit that sent his insane father speechless with but a glance. The Servant narrowed his eyes. Ozone surrounded them as red sparks of lightning leaked out of the Servant's body. And soon after, the oppressive wave subsided. The Servant dismissed Zouken, then turned to Kariya.
"I ask of you, are you my Master?" The Servant crossed his arms.
The baritone voice of the Servant snapped Kariya from his moment of awe. "Y-Yes! My…my name is Kariya Matou. The man behind me is Zouken Matou…my father."
"…Berserker." The knight introduced himself. His blue eyes scanned between his Master and the old man. He surmised a broken relationship that's irreparable. The old man's rotting aura added on to the idea.
Kariya wondered why Berserker wasn't berserk. "If I may?" Kariya asked.
"Indeed I am Berserker, but I've a personal skill that allows me to retain my sanity." Berserker replied. "Of course this means I lack the benefit of the enhancement, but that would do more harm than good -especially with your horrendous amount of mana." The Matous' eyes widened in shock. The younger one because of how his Servant knew of his status while the other in confusion. As if to answer the question, Berserker said, "I mean his natural reserves. This…" He specifically pointed to Kariya's deformations on the skin, the bulging veins where the parasites squirmed. "This is an abomination."
"And why do you say that?" Zouken took to asking.
"Your son will die." Berserker answered calmly. "Is that inconsequential for you?" The old man merely laughed. Karina gazed the other way. The knight stared with contempt. "I see… so you're that type of man. All the more better for you to not be my Master then."
"Win. That is all I request." Zouken said. "That, and you cancel that skill of yours to increase your parameters."
Berserker reached behind his back, and unsheathed his sword. The sword flashed golden, and morphed. The glowing sword met the fleshy neck of Zouken Matou. Gone was the double-edged sword, and came the form of a single-edged broadsword. The glow died down by dispersing into particles. The blade, a single, large piece of white metal that tapered off to a point was connected by a black shaft that ran along the back of the blade. A red revolver ran along the hilt. Kariya looked at similarly colored pieces on the shaft near the point, and guessed it might be some kind of propulsion system.
Blue eyes flashed red. "And I said it would be bad." Berserker snarled.
"Kariya, make him do as told." Zouken ordered.
"Berserker-"
Berserker scowled as he faced his Master. The right hand that gripped the handle tightened. "If you so much as use a Spell right from the start, my expectations of you will drastically lower." Berserker interrupted.
Zouken scoffed. "You're a lowly Servant who needs to fo-"
Berserker faced the impish man. "And you're not my Master!" Berserker shouted with malice dripping off his words. Zouken stepped back from the roar of a demon. "I don't take orders from you, nor will my Master!"
"Just perfect…a Berserker that can think." Zouken muttered. "Just who are you?"
"None of your business, worm." Berserker snapped. Then he realized something. He stared off behind him. What he saw sickened him: a black, squirming mass of familiars in the loosest term. "Worms…" The knight scowled. Subtly glancing at his Master, Berserker felt the familiar feeling underneath Kariya's skin. 'That's what you paid to summon me; to fight this War; to save that girl?'
"Magnificent, no?" Zouken questioned with a sneer.
The sword was withdrawn. Both palms slammed into each other. Red lightning crackled. The Matous braced an arm in front of their faces. Ozone filled the dungeon. "I can't believe I forgot my own words." A stray bolt shot at the ground. "As a Heroic Spirit, my sword will only be drawn as per my Master's orders. It is only then that my sword will shed blood for justice. Not used in anger. Neither for vengeance." The electricity sparked louder with each second. "But with my own hands…now…that's fair game." He turned to his Master. "Brace yourself, Master. I'll free you from those parasites, and it'll hurt a lot!"
"Wh-" Palms coated in lightning made contact with Kariya's chest. Immeasurable amounts of volts ran through the Master's body. Guttural screams echoed along with the sound of a thousand chirping birds. Kariya could feel his insides burn along with the Crest worms inside him. The artificial mana reserve he had slowly diminished with each worm destroyed. Kariya's body spasmed for the better half of the minute, but Berserker still didn't stop. Arms flailed; his head thrashed around; and his eyes rolled up. ccThis electric torture, if it went any longer, would surely kill Kariya.
"…" Zouken stayed silent to watch whether or not his son would perish. If he did, there's always Sakura. But if he did not, another mark of perseverance to Kariya.
Berserker could feel the side-effect of his actions. Little by little, his parameters weakened. Like he gave a damn about those things. It's all about skill, ingenuity, and experience that would win a battle; the stats are only a bonus. "A little more, Master!" The Matou couldn't hear Berserker's words anymore; his consciousness faded away long ago. His heart stayed strong. It thumped rapidly to the point of breaking while Kariya himself felt to be at Death's door.
Berserker withdrew his arms, where the lightning stopped flowing outward. Kariya fell to his knees, and rendered unconscious from the shock therapy. Berserker fell to one knee, and bowed. "I'm sorry…Master. It's the only way I could to rid you of those parasites." He muttered.
"So you're aware of what you've done." Zouken spoke calmly. "I'd prefer you don't scorch my other familiars, Servant." A dragon made of lightning emerged from Berserker's left palm. "You!" Berserker swiped his left hand to the pit of worms, and fried the worms at the point of impact. Some were sent flying while their bodies were charred black. Others were set aflame, and spread outwards to burn their fellow brethren. Soon, the whole pit of worms burned like a moat of flames. The sight irked the old man. "What did I say?"
"What did you say?" Berserker repeated offendedly. "What did I say? I said you're not my Master." Berserker snarled. "You don't order me." Mana rushed outwards from the epicenter, Berserker himself. Zouken nearly fell backwards from the rush of power that came. "You don't order my Master." Slowly, the mana became chaotic, and swirled around Berserker. "You don't demand anything from us!" The mana condensed, solidified into multiple compact structures. Zouken wondered what magecraft this was. The formation was nothing seen before. It looked like a mutation of Gradation Air, otherwise known as Projection. In the mana storm burst forth a column of weapons that surrounded Berserker. Said Servant stood up, faced Zouken with his fury-lidded crimson, slitted eyes, and shouted, "If you don't get that into your head right now, I will kill you, and claim you as a witness to this godforsaken ritual!"
Zouken regained his composure, and stood as properly as his advanced age could do. Putting his weight on his cane, Zouken marveled at the Servants new ability. Swords, halberds, spears, guns, arrows, polearms, lances, knives, weapons -projected weapons- littered the air, and hung on metaphorical invisible strings. What baffled this man was the fact these were projections, yet not fully a projection in a sense. These weapons carried history within them. They appeared authentic, yet absolutely fake. A paradox of which Zouken had never seen before.
"It seems you really are Berserker. I'd half a mind you were joking, and thought your were Archer because of your disobedience." Zouken snidely commented.
Berserker scoffed. "I'd rather be an Archer for the inevitability that I get Masters that act like you."
"Hmm? With those swords, I thought you'd prefer being Saber." The old man guessed.
Berserker crossed his arms. "You wish you'd get that version of me. All honor, no thought. All obedient, no complaints."
"All about independence, you are." Zouken said. "Even in this class, you prefer Archer class huh? I do wonder what you're capable of in your peak." He rubbed his chin.
"I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing my full abilities, worm." Berserker shot down the thought. "The genuine, inevitable truth that you become my Master in some alternate reality infuriates me, and I don't like that." Zouken nodded. He was fully amused by Berserker's anger.
"It would seem the catalyst I provided did not give the desired Servant." Zouken shook his head in amusement. "However, I will let it slide with how your anger and frustration entertain me so." Berserker's visible wall of weapons rose in number. "Try all you might, Berserker, but your Master would not allow it. Not with the deal we made."
"He's unconscious." Berserker pointed out. His weapons buzzed to life as they trained themselves on Zouken.
"Fair point."
"I'm going to-"
"Kariya Oji? Ojisan?" A little girl called out from above. "Is there something wrong?" Berserker now understood. This was the girl his Master wanted to save. From what, he did not know. However he did know his Master paid with suffering all thanks to his father.
Berserker called off his weapons in reluctance. A little girl who might see deliberate murder would not be good for his conscience. "You're alive because of her. Remember that." Berserker muttered.
"I'll faithfully keep that in mind." The old man sneered after answering.
From the shadows of Fuyuki city's alleyways, Berserker caught a peculiar signal coming from the sea, or at least the shoreline. "Someone's very brave to call out to the other Servants." He said to no one in particular.
Kariya stopped to pry. "A battle?" His Servant shook his head.
"Invitation more like." The knight in orange answered. "And it seems one has answered the call, two or three lay in the shadows, and that's not including me. It seems the others are judging whether or not this invitation is worth taking. A battle royal this early in the War would either prove to be a boon or a nightmare."
"How so, Berserker?" Kariya asked while still disturbed at his Servant's ability to talk tactically.
"Worst case scenario for the fighters, two or how many participate of the seven…their abilities have been discovered along with their Noble Phantasms. Thus becoming the warning shots of the War." Kariya raised an eyebrow. Berserker supplied an answer. "You'd think that with a battle royal that at least someone would die, right?" The Master couldn't agree more. "The best case scenario is-"
"Half of the competition is gone, right?"
Berserker nodded. "Exactly." Out of Astral form, Berserker showed his smirking face to his Master. "Shall we answer the call, Master?"
"Uwaaaa! Rider get me down from here!" Cried a teenage boy atop the struts of the bridge connecting Fuyuki to the neighboring city. Clinging for dear life, this boy, Waver Velvet, stared at his Servant, the gargantuan, red-haired conquerer, Iskandar otherwise known as Alexander the Great.
The burly man laughed at his puny Master's wails. "You need to appreciate this location, Master! From here, we can see the upcoming battle with stark clarity without the need of getting near the battlefield." A strong breeze went past the pair. Rider's red cape fluttered with the flow of the wind without so much as a flinch whereas Waver cowered into a ball to prevent himself from being flung off his perch. "As soon as we gauge our enemies strengths, we shall tear them down!"
"A fine strategy, good sir." Said a voice from behind.
Rider and Waver turned around. "And you are?" Rider asked. The stranger raised a hand as if to stop Rider from questioning further.
"You'll know who I am in due time, Rider." The stranger answered. "As a fellow Servant, I am entitled to keeping my name for myself unless I wish it to be public." The gargantuan man crossed his arms. His eyes scoured his body for clues to the Servant's class. The attire of a knight, but quite loose in terms of actual battle gear. He's also here without a Master.
"Might you be Archer?" Red lightning arced overhead.
"Feh!" The Servant scowled. "I wish."
"Since Lancer and Saber are over there, you are not one of the knight classes…" Rider guessed. The reminder signaled another spark to release in an instant. Waver inched away. Rider looked astounded. Never before had he seen a reaction quite like this. "By the gods, are you infuriated that you are not of the Archer class?" The question caused the Servant to shoot a larger bolt. Waver cowered behind his Servant, who laughed at his enemy's predicament.
"Indeed I am." The knight replied. "Though it is of any notable consequence as of yet."
"How so?" The burly man in red questioned.
"I haven't gauged myself against others." The Servant pointed out. "How can I expect to be fighting in my peak without knowing what I'm capable of?"
Rider looked puzzled. 'What Servant would not know his own capabilities?'
"I aim to answer that question by answering Lancer's invitation." The knight supplied an answer. "Unarmed and while only using my wits."
"Are you mad, knight?" Rider asked. "That kind of thinking is dangerous even for the most reckless of Servants!" The knight in orange placed his hands in his pockets. The Servant merely laughed moments later.
"That is certainly the case, Rider. I am mad, but only because my mind is wired to fight outside the box when the time comes." The Servant admitted with a grin. "Even you must understand that some battles need recklessness in order to win." Rider nodded. His enemy was a warrior indeed to understand the nature of a mad mind. "Some call it bravery, guts, courageous, etc. That is what recklessness is called once the battle is won. At the very least, Lancer's invitation is a form of recklessness." The Servant spoke his mind. "Such a gamble could either spell disaster or a boon."
"And from the looks of it, you'll aid in the latter than the former." Rider hypothesized.
"We'll see." The knight answered. His voice was full of mirth. The glint in his eyes spoke of mischief. The King of Conquerers knew this look. This was the look of a mad tactician. The smile of a devious individual.
"You're neither Archer, nor Assassin. Not even are you Saber or Lancer. Since I am of the Rider class, that leaves two possible classes." Rider spoke confidently. The knight grinned from ear to ear. In a red flash, Rider's eventual opponent disappeared from view. "So you are Caster then…most interesting. I shall make him one of my subjects!"
Saber propelled herself forward like a rocket as her golden blade readied itself for the killing blow. In front of her, Lancer lost his footing. This was the opportune moment to end this battle. She swung to her left with the intent to kill her enemy. "This is where you die, Lancer!" Lancer smirked as his foot raised up to catch a yellow spear -the second Noble Phantasm. The surprise did not force Saber to falter from her charge. This had to be the final blow. Green eyes met with maroon before their vision was blinded by a red flash of light. The sound of screeching metal echoed over the battlefield as Saber was sent skywards. The blue knight recovered, and landed right on her feet.
'What was that? A new Servant?' Saber thought to herself. She reequipped her armor, and sheathed her blade in Invisible Air. Her gaze directed itself at Lancer, and the newcomer in front of him. Lancer hunched over slightly. His red spear acted at his cane as a free hand, his left hand touched his chest. 'Wha? Where's his other spear?!'
"Such fine craftsmanship for this lance of yours, Lancer." Spoke the newcomer as he examined Lancer's Noble Phantasm. "Runes… You Irishmen love your runic curses." Lancer looked alarmed. Just from examining his spear, this Servant identified him as an Irishman?! This warrior…he was a danger! "Quite terrifying, this one. In the hands of a skilled fighter, the enemy is as good as dead. And I've experienced the reverse causality of one other spearman's famous spear." Lancer poised himself for a fight. This man fought Cú Chulainn and survived his ultimate blow! "Now this one…Gae Buidhe. The Yellow Rose of Mortality. Quite fearsome wouldn't you say, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne?" The spearman gritted his teeth. How shameful of him to be found out so easily!
'So that's Lancer's identity.' Saber thought. 'Unfortunate I didn't get to know it through the clash of weapons, but information is information.' Saber's proxy Master thought along the same lines. Though the white-haired homunculus seemed more shocked at the deconstruction of Lancer's identity more than anything else.
"What are you doing Lancer? Kill him!" Shouted a voice from somewhere outside the battlefield. Lancer complied without hesitation. This new enemy raised his hands in a 'stop' gesture.
"Woah, woah, woah!" The Servant yelped. "I didn't even get to say Saber's identity!" Lancer screeched to a halt.
'This Servant already knows Saber's name?!' All spectators except Saber and the newcomer thought the same line. Though depending one which side, such information leaking was a fortune or a curse.
Meanwhile at the rooftops of the warehouse, Saber's true Master, Kiritsugu, eyed this new Servant. 'This could be trouble. This Servant can easily figure out identities of Servants.'He placed a hand on his headset. "Maiya. Can you find this Servant's Master?" When he received a negative, Kiritsugu searched from his perch to find this Servant's Master and to prevent said Servant from speaking.
"Very well. Speak, Servant." Said Lancer's Master.
"Uh no." The orange knight spoke flatly.
"What?" Lancer's Master croaked in anger. "Are you toying with me?!"
"I'll reveal Saber's identity if you come down from your hiding place, you cowardly Mage. Excuse my language, but the lady behind me has more balls than you in this instance." Saber charged at the Servant without warning. She wanted him silenced for Irisviel and for the sake of keeping her identity. Her sword aimed to decapitate the talkative Servant. The orange knight swiftly reacted with a parry of his shield. Moments later, he retracted it to bring something else into existence.
Prana poured into the Servant's right hand. "I've two questions, Lancer. Do you recognize this spear, and the stance I'll be using?" In the Servant's right, a red spear that evoked the image of lightning emerged from thin air. The make was Irish as the shaft was similar in design to Lancer's own red spear. The main difference was that no visible rune markings etched themselves on the blade of this spear. The blade was simple, double-edged; however, it is its serrated edge that sold Lancer to the name of the spear. No Irish spearman worth his salt would never forget the legend behind Gae Bolg. Lancer also would not forget his own stance. Gae Bolg and Gae Buidhe were spread apart from the user. The former rested in the Servant's right while the latter took refuge in his left.
Saber landed perfectly once more, and decided to wait and see what would happen next. It seemed her attack brought forth a change in topic.
"Just who are you, Servant?!" Lancer shouted.
"Hm…now that would be telling." The Servant in orange mused.
"Speak of your identity! The knights' Code of Chivalry demands it!"
"I don't have to say anything, Diarmuid." The Servant cackled lightly. Both knights fumed at this fraud's disregard of chivalry. "Now…what say you, King Arthur?" All eyes widened except for the speaker's. "Will you aid your initial enemy to take me down?"
The swordswoman and spearman exchanged looks. "Yes!" They declared easily.
'Can I cut loose now, Master?' Berserker asked with a smile on his face.
"Use some discretion."
"Very well." Berserker readied his body for a fight. "Come at me, King and Knight!"
"Well, well. It seems Caster isn't so foolish to go unarmed." Rider noted. "A liar, a jester, and a warrior gone mad. He will be a fine addition to my army!"
All right. That's the end of this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it.
Review, follow, favorite, I don't care.
This is Azure signing off.