Prologue 1: Outward View
In a quiet room hidden from space and forgotten by time, there sat the shape of a man.
It had a weathered face with aristocratic features and steel-grey hair, hands that bore the small scars of ages, and a solid figure hidden beneath dark clothing that wouldn't have been out of place in any noble's court. It would have been an easy mistake to think the figure nothing more than a venerable old man.
Unless the eyes, the exact red of flowing blood, were trained on you as they were at this moment trained on a fluttering storm of pages that hovered before him under their own power. Nothing that had ever been pinned thus by that gaze could ever mistake Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg for a mere man.
Still, no matter what he had become, his mannerisms were still those of a human as page after page vanished from his inhuman perusal until only three were left. He sighed, leaning forward a touch on the cane beneath his folded hands, and closed his eyes a moment. Still, it was only for a moment.
When he looked up once more, the master of the Second True Magic devoted his full attention to the three profiles that still remained. With a wave of his hand, one was immediately discarded - that one was busy preventing the Incineration of the Human Order. Best not to disturb them.
Two choices remained, and the Kaleidoscope drew the papers to his hands as if closing the distance would serve to provide some heretofore unknown enlightenment.
"I know you can see me." He said aloud, as he stared at the images atop the two pages.
His chair turned, despite not being in any way designed to swivel, placing within Zelretch's field of view a small creature that regarded him evenly from its perch. Few creatures could exist in Zelretch's private chambers, let alone find their way in - the list of people that could have managed both without drawing his attention was vanishingly small indeed.
The Old Man of the Jewels and the dormant form of Beast IV locked eyes for a long moment, the more human-looking of the two waving one hand idly. "Primate Murder, dormant or not, would have neither the desire nor the means to enter my sanctum."
"I suppose it was too much to hope that I might be the first to surprise you in so many years." The beast commented, its voice sounding vaguely whiny.
"Indeed." Zelretch agreed. "Still, since you are here - in spirit, if not in body - what do you think of these candidates, Ambrosius?"
The voice of Merlin chuckled airily, the sound at a complete disconnect with the form that spawned it. "I'd choose the boy." He decided. "While her eyes might well be of use in that world, her mindset is all wrong. The boy, on the other hand…" The beast's eyes glinted. "Well. With the right training, I think he'd serve."
Zelretch nodded, considering. "Perhaps. And what guarantee have we that he'd not die as soon as he arrived?"
Merlin was silent for a long moment, the claws of his borrowed form drumming on the floor in thought. Then, he perked up. "Make him a Demi-Servant!" He declared. "I can provide a backup Mana source in the form of the Gardens, since you don't have access to Chaldea's FATE system."
The Wizard Marshal leaned back in his chair. "The idea has merit." He reached up and started stroking his chin. "A few modifications to the Class Card, and with a strong enough power source…"
Seeing that the immortal Magician had drifted off in thought, Merlin had Cath Palug exit the isolated space and left Zelretch to his careful considerations. Flippant he may be, but Zelretch's work was worth his respect.
A few subjective hours after Merlin's exit, the Second Magician concluded his modifications to the Class Card he'd picked out of his deck. Hopefully, with such a tool at his disposal, the boy would be able to buy himself enough time to adapt to his new world. Then, after that…
Well. Averting the Consumption of the Root was always going to be a long-term goal.
As he turned away from his workstation to begin the process, the only sign of how Zelretch felt about his course of action was the slight, satisfied upward curve to his lips.
A long dreary day was dying. As the sun fell lower the clouds followed suit, a weight beyond the physical that pressed on the backs of all the men and women who toiled beneath the darkening sky. By the smell on the wind and the chill of the wind, the threat of rain grew ever more real as people scurried for home.
A young man tugged his hood down as he slumped against the wind, slouching his way home with all the long day dragging at his feet. There had been nothing new in the library, as he'd expected, leaving him resigned to yet another evening of boredom. None of his friends were online, he'd read everything he had on hand until the text faded from his gaze and he didn't want to pick up Dark Souls again until he was sure he wouldn't take out his frustrations on his poor television via ballistic controller.
He was just turning around the last corner before his house when the dam broke and the rain began to pour down, a deluge that roared and clung like a living thing rather than any cleansing force of nature. It forced his head down further and shunted parts of his mind away, the man focussing on nothing but getting home and out of the rain.
That was probably why he didn't notice the coruscating, multicoloured rip in the fabric of reality until he barreled straight through it.
The rain continued to beat against the earth, unaffected by the young man's disappearance. The rest of the world kept turning with just as much care for his vanishing, until the word finally made its way across the ocean to his family from where he'd been working as an English Teaching Assistant for a Foreign Language class.
His mother and sister, alongside a trio of friends made over the internet, started a Kickstarter to fund a search for him. It earned a decent amount of money - all for naught, however. No evidence was ever found of where he'd disappeared to.
After a few months of searching, it was finally accepted that Johan Lewis was gone from the lives of those who'd known him; an empty casket was buried and a small gravestone was planted in an equally small service...
While a world away, a young man stumbled badly as the world around him abruptly shifted. Gone was the rain-assailed street; instead, he stood soaking wet in the middle of a good-sized park. Some bushes and trees, a couple of benches, a fountain - and over his head was a cloudless sky where the sun was dipping down towards the horizon.
He saw it all in the brief moment he was vertical. Then his knee crashed into a bench he'd appeared in front of and he toppled over with a vehement curse. Looking around himself as he cradled his knee, his jaw hanging loose, he had the odd feeling that he'd seen the park before…
Then someone drove a railroad spike into his skull, the blow to his knee suddenly seeming as consequential as being slapped with a tissue. As the pain pressed in, his consciousness was pressed out, grey devouring his vision and fading into black.
His last thought was a fervent, heartfelt plea. 'Why me?'
As I regained consciousness, putting my scattered thoughts back together, I could feel something had changed. There was...a weight to an air, an ominous feeling that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I struggled to my feet even as I started getting twitchy, brushing the grasp of the bush I'd landed in away from my clothing. With each leaf I dislodged the feeling of dread only grew, and when I gathered enough of my courage to look up, I saw-
A flash of reddish light.
Searing agony, branching from my chest to my skull and buring my mind to ash.
It hurts. It hurts! It Hurts IT HURTS iT hUrTs It HuRtS!
As the jagged, spear-like weapon of reddish light in my gut faded from existence, I fell to my knees with a thud. Everything below my waist had gone numb, and my hands were full trying to keep everything that should be inside me actually inside me, rather than letting it fall through the hole in my stomach. Still, I made the effort to look up once more, even as blood pumped through my fingers as my heart's own strength betrayed it.
Hair like spilled ink, rippling as it devoured the light. A body with curves in so many right places that the lack of imperfections was jarring. But what really drew my eyes was the smile. The look of sadistic glee that was writ so wide on her face it eclipsed everything else about her in its shadow - just as the massive, feathered black wings that sprouted from her back eclipsed what I'd been able to see of the sun.
Cowering behind her, just visible beneath the shadow of her wings, there was a boy with spiky brown hair and bright green eyes. It was then, looking at those two, that I realised why the park seemed so familiar.
'Of all the places to die...of all the people to kill me...I'm murdered by a minor antagonist in a battle harem anime?'
My dying mind had certainly chosen an odd thing to fixate on in its final moments, I couldn't help but feel.
As I watched, grey began to spread across my vision once more - but rather than the fog that had devoured my sight before, the grey now was a gradual fading of colour from all things. As colour faded so did motion, until the world stood, nigh-colourless and without even a falling leaf obeying gravity's call.
If not for the crippling, fatal agony of my gut wound, I might have been a JoJo reference.
Once again, the shadow of my vengeance has been called to a world cast in murderous red…
…?
And yet, there is no great enemy? No terrible wrong? No monster forged from man's true heart?
No - vengeance is called for nothing more than a child.
...Very well, then. An Avenger's path is a winding one indeed, after all.
Tell me, boy - do you accept this as your death?
"W-what?"
Do you accept that your fate is to die here, felled in a single blow by a being even normal men could slaughter like cattle? Nothing more than a pitiful child, leaving no mark on the world?
My face began to heat, my teeth grinding together as I spat out a mouth full of crimson lifeblood. "The fuck I do! Of course I don't accept it, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm fucking dying you asshat!"
Kuahahaha! That's better! Show me your defiance! Show me your rage! The time to Wait and Hope has passed!
Now! Fuis Ton Destin!
The voice had grown, louder and louder as it began to shake the still and silent world around me. As it peaked, I felt myself shaking too - coming loose from the sound and the agony. My mind stretched, strained and then - finally - snapped, pulling back from my body and depositing me in the position of a spectator.
And with the driving seat empty...something else took the wheel.
Raynare reared her arm back, a new Light Spear appearing in her hand. She'd been surprised when a random human rose from the bushes inside her barrier and had reacted on instinct, but she wasn't terribly concerned. Humans were, at best, either disposable tools or a source of slight entertainment. She might as well have swatted a fly.
The perverted fool seemed to finally realize the position he was in, she noted. 'I suppose killing somebody in front of him would break through even the thickest of skulls.'" Now, as I was saying, I want you to die for me. This is honestly a waste of my time, but you can blame God for giving you that Sacred Gear."
She was halfway through throwing her spear when she finished speaking. She didn't get any further.
Her arm froze, locking in place just as the rest of her body did likewise in the face of the suffocating malice that flooded the clearing with all the force of a tsunami. When she yanked herself around in a turn that lacked all of her supernatural grace, her lavender eyes sought the human she'd thought slain a moment before.
Instead, she saw the flames.
They were black. More than her hair, more than her wings, more than anything she had laid eyes on in all the many years she'd lived they were black. They burned as if on the light itself, gorging on all brightness and leaving gaping wounds in the air behind them. Nothing, she thought, could possibly survive beneath that.
Then the flames began to rise.
The rather heavy young man she'd impaled was gone, by the time the figure reached its full height. As if the man were burned away by the flames and left only the core in its place, there instead stood a tall, thin man with skin as pale as the flames burning around them were dark. The clothing which adorned him was that of a Victorian gentleman, pressed pants and open jacket in black with a white shirt beneath the open jacket and a long tie of bloody red hung from the collar.
The flames licked the air around him, leaking from the suit's every hem and causing the tie to dance in a wind that was not there. His dirty silver hair writhed to and fro where it fell around his neck, and the glowing crimson eyes that opened in the pale, aristocratic face shone against the dark.
As those eyes fixed upon her, Raynare felt her resolve waver and break. She hadn't felt such fear or sensed such bloodlust since she had first met Lord Kokabiel, and she was as paralysed now as she was then.
"Wretch." The monster addressed her, very deliberately tugging at its cuffs. "You tried to kill my host."
A light like burnt gold sparked to life in the thing's eyes. As it raised its hands the flames roared higher and bent inwards, gathering in its palms in eager anticipation. Raynare screamed in something between terror and defiance, hurling her spear with all she had to try and fend it off-
Only to see the abomination's hand blur out of even her sight, backhanding her spear away without even a flicker in its eyes. The Light she had forged with the skill of centuries shattered like spun sugar, gone before it hit the ground - and then she had no time to think of it, because between one moment and the next the thing vanished from her sight and a burning grasp seared itself into the back of her neck.
She fell from where she had hovered feet above the ground, screaming her pain, as the horrid voice crackled in her ear. "For this transgression...you. Will. SUFFER."
Then her face was buried in grass and dirt, and everything became a confused mess of pain and yet more pain as she desperately tried to shield herself from the worst of the burning and the beating…
Until yelling, flashes of light in red, blue and yellow, and something grabbing her before the familiar rush of taking flight. She was held close to a warmth that didn't burn, that didn't hurt, and she clutched it as close as she could manage between the injuries and the sobbing.
She had thought the most painful thing she would ever experience was her Fall.
She had thought wrong.
The Fallen Angels managed to get away with Raynare.
Although the being working through my body had stopped 'playing' and become serious when the other three came rocketing into the clearing, it had proven to be insufficient. Raynare was snatched from right beneath us, the teamwork of the two remaining Fallen wearing down my new alter-ego until they broke off to flee. Raging but not to the point of acting irrationally, my tenant let them go.
To think, I have been reduced to this. The jet black of my vengeance faded into gray...how humiliating.
I suppose it is to be expected when vengeance is rooted in such an imperfect host. The true essence of an Avenger would be too much for this shell, and I have no wish to cast us both into the great beyond before I have fulfilled my ambition.
If I had been in control of my body, I'd probably have jumped in shock at hearing his voice once more. As it was, I just 'sputtered' as best an incorporeal personality could.
What danger there was has passed - call not for me until the impurity of your white heart has darkened, my host. Such ignimony as you have forced upon me is a shame I will not bear willingly.
Do try to survive once I relinquish control. For your heart to fail before it could truly begin to burn would be...unfortunate.
"Wait!" I yelped. "Who are you? What are you? What the fuck is going on?!"
Your third question is as much mine as yours, for that knowledge is lost to me. The answer to your first question is as the answer to the second, however. What I am…
Listen! Hear me and engrave these words into your memory!
I am Vengeance, Incarnated upon this World!
I am the King of the Cavern, a darkness upon the shadows themselves!
I am AVENGER - and my flames shall burn away all in our path.
That really wasn't much of an answer at all. But before I could say so, I felt the overwhelming presence drawing back from me, leaving me free to slide once more into control of my body. As I did so, I felt waves of exhaustion and the specific pains of overwork rolling over me, carrying with them gray that became black.
As I fell unconscious again, I didn't have time for anything heartfelt. Just resigned aggravation.
Issei Hyoudou was all but catatonic.
Part of him was still capable of forming coherent thoughts, but it was busy considering that he really should have expected something like this. After all, he - Issei Hyoudou of the Perverted Trio, the (self-proclaimed) future Harem King, someone who had been told repeatedly no woman would touch him with a Howitzer or a ten-foot pole - had been asked on a date.
By a girl.
A really hot girl, with really nice bre-
Oh, apparently the rest of his brain was working again. Nothing like the glory of oppai to get the old motor running right.
At least it hadn't been the apocalypse like he'd been half-expecting. In comparison, this really wasn't all that bad.
Issei's attention was properly re-focussed when the Chunnibyō magic ninja who had beaten the hell out of his girlfriend (who had turned into a mostly-naked older woman with wings and gone to impale him, which was honestly still kind of hot) transformed back into a noticeably different guy of a similar build and then collapsed. He quickly rushed over, panicking as he tried to recall what you were meant to do to check people were alright and then sighing in relief as he found the guy was breathing and still had a pulse.
And as he tried to figure out what in the actual fuck he was meant to do now, he remained ignorant of the bird with unnaturally sharp eyes that made one final pass over the park high above his head, then began the return flight to its master...
AN: Well, hopefully this will go over better than the original did. It took much longer than I'd thought to begin this rewrite, but hopefully it'll go well. I did my damnedest to properly characterize Zelretch by his canonical depiction, rather than making the mistake of even touching Trollretch.
As always, many thanks to Teninshigen for his help with this chapter. Tell me what you think.
Edit: Reworked the chapter in response to helpful feedback from TheOldman, with the assistance of the ever-wonderful Teninshigen.
