Chaldea was in flames. Well, rather the whole world was in flames. Servants and humans ran all over the facility as it tore apart. A crevice broke in the floor and several workers fell to their deaths. The parts of the outside walls had been destroyed, and while the cold air froze some parts of the facility, other parts were still a murderous heat storm.
Explosions rocked the building as screams and dust filled the air. Blood painted the floors a new color, where the debris ruined the once proud prestige of Chaldea itself. The ceilings were crumbling all the while Servants and Chaldean faculty alike fell to the floor from injuries or the lack of oxygen in the air and even died. Servants, of all things, dying like regular humans. Even the mightiest of heroes fell, regardless of how high their legends were.
Arturia gasped for air. She couldn't find anyone. Hell, she found it hard to breathe. It seemed as though the laws of the world had changed, as she felt too human, and she couldn't even materialize her sword or armor. She no longer felt mana running through her body, only fear, and panic.
She leaned against the wall of Chaldea, trying to maintain her composure. An explosion caused her to scream, as the hallway in front of her ripped apart, revealing the outside. Except...it wasn't the outside. It was a void, of swirling energy that never seemed to end.
"What the bloody hell...?" Arturia gasped.
She didn't understand. What was going on!? They had just fixed the Lostbelts nearly a month ago. Now...the world was ending. And by god, why did it happen now of all times? Was this an enemy? Was this an attack? It didn't seem like it...as sudden as it was, it just seemed...random.
Then again, life comes at you in the worst of times. She grasped her bloodied wound. It came about because of exploding metals of all things. She was a Servant, yet she was going to die like this?
The void seemed to swirl faster and things were drawn to it like a black hole. Arturia soon faded into unconsciousness from the blood loss. Her fleeting thoughts questioned the pointlessness of this event, how it happened for almost no reason at all. The void dragged her off the floor and towards itself before she was sucked in and gone like the rest of the world.
Jeanne woke up in cold, bitter snow. She could see her own breath and she was instantly confused and scared, as she sat up shivering. She was only in her white dress, as Chaldea had been having a party right before the disaster. She tried to materialize her armor or even her staff. Yet, she couldn't. She couldn't feel any mana going through her.
She coughed, realizing she couldn't feel any connection to her Master. Not even a source of any energy could she detect. She couldn't turn to spiritual form, she realized, and she realized she didn't have a Saints Graph. None at all. She felt her arms and legs. She was human. Alive. A beating, real, physical heart pounded in her chest. Was she connected to the Throne Of Heroes still? No...such a physical body is impossible.
She further shivered. She looked around to see she was in a park of sorts. Coincidentally, a newspaper flew by. As she tried to read the unrecognizable English (either way, it looked like her illiteracy had come back since she was alive again), her eyes looked at the date, which she could make out. December 24, 1973. On the outline was the most beautiful city she had ever seen. Dozens upon dozens of skyscrapers lined up the night sky. She remembered seeing pictures of modern day New York and Shanghai. This was different. It was a modern metropolis of grand elegance, yet with an air of humbleness. The architecture was almost godly, a marvel of human progress.
However, she was stuck in the snow. Now that she was human, she needed to find some sort of shelter. She rubbed her arms as she began to walk through the snow. Luckily it was snowing lightly, but it was still freezing nonetheless. She wore flats on her feet, and those especially didn't help her keep warm. She managed to cross onto a street, empty, indicating how late it was. Unfortunately, she couldn't read English. Did her loss of being Heroic Spirit caused her to lose basic abilities as well?
She felt her heart pounding in her chest and her blood pumping through her veins faster and faster. Her movements became much slower and sluggish. Her mind seemed to be in different places, as she didn't even know where her feet were taking her, even though she grew more and more paranoid. Confusion and panic were creeping in her mind. She looked at her hands, the tips becoming slightly blue and she coughed violently, before shivering harder than before. Things were going hazy, and she was getting disoriented. She felt like collapsing onto the ground. Her breathing became ragged and the cold winds were whipping her bare back.
"Oi! The hell ya doing ma'am!?"
Jeanne saw the light of a flashlight shined towards her. She tried to speak the English she knew, but if anything she just mumbled. So, French, it is.
"Aidez moi...aidez-moi, s'il vous plaît..." Jeanne murmured. Luckily, the figure seemed to hear her.
"French, huh...hey, attends,reste éveillémaintenant!" The figure said as Jeanne felt her eyesclose and she collapsed to the snowy ground.
"Wir haben sie gerade gefunden, Papa. Ziellos auf die Straße gehen!"
"Wirklich jetzt? Zu dieser Stunde? Es ist nach Mitternacht!"
Nero groggily opened her eyes and felt a cozy warmth envelop her. She opened her eyes to see a dark red ceiling and found herself on a nice and comfortable bed. She sat up, groaning slightly as she clutched her throbbing head.
The door to the room suddenly opened to reveal a tall, muscular man wearing a dark navy blue suit. He took off his fedora as he closed the door, pulling a chair up to sit on. The man had piercing evergreen eyes and sun-kissed blonde hair styled in a wavy, slicked-back side part. She blushed for reasons she'd rather not explain. The man was handsome, what else could she say?
"So..." The man sighed, "can you explain to me why in God's name did you decide to walk around the streets of Chicago, by yourself, in this sort of weather?" His accent was American by nature, distinctively a pleasant mix of Midwestern subtlety and Southern drawl.
"I...I did?" Nero asked herself. Wait a minute? Why could she speak perfect English? Wait, did she usually speak a different language? What was her native tongue? What was-
"Huh...what's your name, if you don't mind me asking, ma'am?" The man asked.
"I..." Nero thought hard and hard, "I don't know..." The look on the man's face was one of tremendous surprise and even slight amusement.
"Really now...ain't that something," The man muttered, "well, my name is Fredrik Stark, ma'am. As of now, you are residing in my humble abode. Pleased to meet you. Not every day I find young girls with a lack of proper winter clothing with amnesia in the middle of the snow. America really is something, huh?"
"Thank you for saving me and I apologize for causing you any trouble," Nero replied solemnly. A part of her was oddly enough questioning why she was being so formal.
"No trouble at all, though I find it strange..." Fredrik murmured.
"What's strange?" Nero asked.
"Well, for one thing, you're a lot calmer than I'd expect," Fredrik stated, "and you remind me of someone I used to know...say, have you ever met anyone that looks like you? Slighter darker eyes, slimmer everything, and has a strand of hair always sticking out in front?"
"I...I don't remember anything, I'm sorry," Nero said sadly. The man sighed and stood up from the chair. "I apologize for not being helpful."
"No worries," Fredrik shook his head, "and just when I thought I had abandoned that life behind for good...so you have no idea who you are, where you came from, and do you even know your birthday?"
"Um...December 15," Nero replied sheepishly, "everything else, no..."
"That's a start I suppose," Fredrik chuckled, "well, ma'am, can you give me a rough guess of ethnicity, age, or maybe even maybe the fuzziest idea of...well, I don't know, what's the very last thing you could remember?"
"I'm...Italian, I think?" Nero said with a sheepish frown, "I think I'm...perhaps around 15?"
"I'll be damned, never knew universal incursions could also cause age decrease...well then, uh...huh," Fredrik sighed, "the hell am I supposed to do now? Not everyday some random girl comes out of nowhere. Well then, uh...dinner is about to be ready in a few minutes downstairs. Though...I shouldn't keep calling you ma'am all the time. How about a name?"
"I don't have one in mind," Nero said.
"Damn, you really are suffering from memory loss," Fredrik laughed, "how about Portia? Shakespeare always had a way to give names to strong women."
"I'd like that," Nero smiled.
"Aye, so do I," Fredrik nodded, "I guess I'll be leading the way to the kitchen then."
"Mr. Stark?" Nero said quietly.
"Yeah?" Fredrik replied.
"What day is it?" Nero asked nervously.
"Ah, right," Fredrik sighed once more, "currently, it's December 22, 1969. Welcome to the city of Chicago, my dear."
Finally, we reached our fourth survivor of Chaldea. Arturia Lily had also found herself somewhere in the city. This time, it was the police station. Unfortunately for her, she found herself in a holding cell alone. She stayed there, fearful and paranoid, as people filed in and out of the building. She grew anxious, questions steaming through a mind. She looked at the clock, surprised to find the clock stating, 'January 14, 1971. 9:10 PM'. She had said nothing so far. Fear had caused her to only sit back and brood.
Suddenly, the cell's door opened to reveal a man in a dark red suit. He had a clean-shaven and handsome face. His jet-black hair was slicked all the way back flat and his chocolate brown eyes were unreadable. Lily gulped. He looked like a mafia boss in one of those movies she saw once! He pulled up a chair and sat right across from her.
"You must be a damn fool to be walking through weather like that," The man sighed, "this is the coldest winter we've had in years, goddammit, are you an idiot?" Lily stayed silent from fear of this man. He was as handsome as he was intimidating, and his eyes seemed to pierce her soul. "You speak English, ma'am? Hello? Inglese? Capisci?"
"Y-Yes," Lily nodded, finally deciding it was best to speak before she dies. The man raised a curious eyebrow before resting his chin on his upright hand.
"You're Arturia's younger self, aren't you?" The man stated. Lily only felt her jaw drop in surprise. "Obviously, you look the same to the very shade of eye color. Yet, I don't recall the Arturia I know being so silent and nervous, much less walk around in white." He gave a deep sigh. "My name is Alfred Elias Vinter. I was an associate of your other self in the past. I am surprised to find another version of her though, do you know what happened?"
"N-No," Lily replied uneasily, "all I recall is the place I was staying at was destroyed and I got sucked into a wormhole from Chaldea."
"What place is this Chaldea? Sounds like a strip club in Dubai. Is it a research facility?" Alfred asked, "work with me here, sweetheart, I'm the only one around who'd be able to believe your story."
"Yes, it's a research facility meant to preserve human history," Lily answered.
"Sorry to say, there is no such thing as Chaldea in this world," Alfred stated darkly, "wormhole, huh? I haven't heard of such a thing since the Great Time War...say, do you know why anything happened?"
"No, it just happened randomly, if anything," Lily explained, "I was having dinner, and then the whole facility burst into flames. But that should be impossible! Chaldea should-
"You're in a different world now," Alfred sighed, "tell me, what year was Chaldea in?"
"2018..." Lily muttered.
"It's 1971," Alfred frowned, "if you haven't noticed by the calendar on the wall. I thought you knew English?"
"Well, I-"
"Are you an idiot?"
"No, I-"
"Seems like you are," Alfred said sarcastically, "are you sure you aren't some extraterrestrial demon lord from another universe hellbent on destroying all life on Earth?"
"What? No!" Lily shouted angrily.
"Good, I'd have to rip your spine out," Alfred smiled, "unfortunately, it appears as though you are permanently separated from your universe. Such a pity. Lord knows we have had enough bumbling bastard children running around."
"And why is that?" Lily questioned.
"Because it's...ta-daaaaah, destroyed!"
"Destroyed?"
"Destroyed, like bing-bam-boom, gone to dust."
"T-That's impossible!"
"I said I'd swear off dairy for a month. Anything is possible."
"You must be lying!"
"Why would I lie? Like how am I lying? Am I a spy to you, do I deceive you, am I a damn James Bond? Am I here for your intimidation, do you think I'm lying, does it look like I'm lying? Tell me, how the hell am I lying?"
"I don't know..."
"Of course you don't."
"Why are you eating an apple?"
"To make myself look like a jackass, what else?"
Lily slumped against the wall in shock and horror. How could it be destroyed? This man must be lying, right? Yet, he knew too much for any regular human to know.
"Let me contact the Cl-"
"It doesn't exist here either," Alfred sighed, "tell me, what do you feel like right now? You're a Servant, correct? Try to go to your spiritual body, or at least try to summon your sword."
"I-I-I can't," Lily muttered softly.
"Do you feel a connection to anyone?" Alfred asked, "do you feel bound by anything? Any flow of energy running through your veins? Speaking of veins, what does your body really feel like, hm? Does it feel living? Solid, with cells and atoms? Can you feel your heart beating? Are your lungs rising every time you breathe? Oh, what about your soul? Oh, right, you don't feel any soul, no Saint Graph, or even the slightest tether to the Throne Of Heroes, much less your Master, hm?"
Lily stayed silent and only nodded. Well then, not only was this man a smartass, he was better than Sherlock. What did he know? It seemed so unlikely she'd turn this weak all of a sudden.
"What happened to me?" Lily asked quietly.
"You've turned human," Alfred stated, "you're no longer a Servant. You're real flesh and blood. In short, you're alive again." He stood up and opened the cell doors. "For now, you're under my custody. As a foreigner to this world, we'll need to sort out legal matters for you to stay here."
"Custody? Where am I, exactly?" Lily asked.
"Chicago, Illinois, in the United States Of America," Alfred laughed, "I hope you enjoy your stay. Oh, and you can brood in the car. Stop looking so sad. This might be good for your pitiful soul. I have a family to get to, after all, so hurry up and get going, lad."
Lily could see the badge at his waist. He was a police officer of this city. Yet, the man seemed too high above everything to be just a simple officer. Perhaps he was the commissioner? As Lily walked out into the city and looked around in awe at the tall skyscrapers overhead, she was suddenly thrown a jacket by Alfred.
"It's cold," Alfred stated, "don't want you to freeze after all." Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. After all, he did say she would be allowed to brood in the car.
A/N: Is this a prologue? I don't even know.