Discalimer: This story is simply for pleasure. I own nothing from the NASUverse
Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 1
Trifas
The night, which was normally so peaceful in this part of Europe, was currently being greatly disturbed by the massive and bloody sounds of battle and death.
The battlefield was a sight of absolute terror and carnage. Strange skeletons and fantastical creatures fought against pale, silent, brown-haired and red-eyed warriors and spell- casters, and hulking golems, all under the shadow of mighty, jutting spikes, upon many of which were impaled skeletons and many of the fantastical creatures.
On the ground, two mighty blurs of light, one a deep blue, and the other a lively green, clashed and dashed against one another time and time again, each accompanied by the clatter of hooves and sparking horseshoes, and the exultant cries of two warriors, each as eager and exultant as the other at having found a worthy opponent to fight and die against.
Arrows filled the sky from seemingly every direction, and rained down death and destruction aplenty on all sides with explosions of fire and death and cutting through the air.
A powerful, glowing lance repeatedly cut great swaths of flaming destruction throughout the battlefield, turning large groups of the golems and pale fighters into bloody mist and dust.
In the center of the battle itself, a thing that could only be described as a mountainous mass of living tumors with mouths and eyeballs and draconic heads, all of which were screaming an ecstatic sort of voice, "Yes! Yes! Death to all oppressors! Let my love destroy all those who would dare tread upon the defenseless masses in a great burst of freedom and liberty! Hahahahahahaha!"
Out of all this madness, however, it would still have been impossible to miss the titanic clash between a masked knight in red armor, and a simple swordsman in much plainer clothes and traditional armor who was wearing an eye-patch.
Each clash of their blades was like the clamor of planets smashing against one another, their swings still destroying great areas of land, even if they were dodged. Such was their might and power that even a blind and deaf person would have been able to sense the bloodlust emanating from their strokes and slashes.
Riposte and parry, overhead slash, pirouette; leaping dodge, reverse cut, kick to the head, smash with the flat of the blade, blade lock, disengage, repeat… on and on went this dance of battle and death between these two warriors, these two legends, these two… Heroes.
For this duel, and indeed, the rest of the greater battle, was but one skirmish in an ancient and secret war between Heroes of the past, and all for the ultimate prize.
After another brief moment of locking blades and testing the other's strength, they parted, both leaping back a great distance from one another.
"You're pissing me off, you one-eyed bastard!" The masked knight screamed, pointing a tarnished-looking broadsword of crimson and steel at the other participant in this battle of heroes.
The knight's opponent, a silver-haired, one-eyed swordsman in simple clothing and armor, said nothing in response to the knight's angry shout, and simply raised his own, red-handled, single-edged sword, as a signal that he was ready to continue, his one visible eye visibly narrowing in concentration, and perhaps slight disdain.
The lack of a verbal answer served only to raise the masked knight's ire. "Bastard! Just die already!"
With that, the knight's helmet began to collapse upon it's self while merging into her (for this warrior of steel and blade and might was, on the surface, female) armor, revealing an oddly boyish face with pale skin, angry emerald eyes, and a large mess of dirty blonde hair roughly tied back into a short, messy pony tail.
With a shout, she raised her tarnished sword, as red lighting and power gathered about its blade, and then rising into a towering inferno of lighting and crimson.
The swordsman's visible eye did not widen in fear or surprise at this. Instead, he simply gripped his weapon with both hands, his form tense, yet relaxed. "So be, it, oh rash and angry knight," he said, his voice audible enough to be heard by his opponent, even among the clatter of the battlefield.
A visible sphere of power then materialized around him, as his sword began to glow and let loose its own tower of strength and bloodlust. Without a word, he settled into the Raito stance, blade at the ready.
"Get ready, Saber of Black!" Screamed the Knight of Treachery, as her blade's power became near blinding, which was soon matched by the equally crimson glow of the Legendary Swordsman's bloodthirsty and impossible katana. He lifted it into a vertical position, ready to lift and slash down.
"Clarent…"
"Juuchi…"
"…Blood Arthur!"
"…Yosamu!"
With a blast that seemed akin to the roar of mighty dragons, the two slashes met in a great and mighty explosion, each propelled by the power of history and legend and myth. The resulting mixture seemed more akin to that of a sun going supernova than anything else.
How did this all start? The answer lies in the past, six days ago…
Clock Tower, six days ago
It was not a good situation, The Lord El-Melloi II mused. Not since the news from Romania had been received.
As he mused, he had heard a knock on his study door. "Come in."
The man that entered was a large, muscular, burly man who, despite his scarred countenance, was only in his thirties at most. He was dressed like a stereotypical biker, with shoulder length, messy hair, dark sunglasses, what seemed to be a sawed-off shotgun dangling from his hip, along with a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth.
"Lord El-Melloi?" the man asked, in a voice befitting his frame, tinged though it was from the years of smoke inhalation.
"First off, it's El-Melloi II. Secondly, yes. You are Kairi Sisigou, correct?"
"Yep. Old man Belfaban told to meet with you?"
"Indeed. Take a seat, please."
The Necromancer did.
"Tell me, Sisigou, what do you know of the Yggdmillennia?"
"As much as any other magus, I guess. They're a collective of degrading maig clans who pool their resources together in order to survive, and that the old folks here think that they're a bunch of "heretics," but other than that, not much. Never really ran into them during my travels. Why?"
In response, the lord reached into his desk and pulled out a rather large file. He withdrew from the file an old, slightly faded photograph of a man dressed in a Nazi uniform. "Seventy years ago, their current head, the man you see here, took part in the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Have you heard of that, at least?"
"Who hasn't?"
"Indeed. Suffice to say; due to machinations of this man, there have been no new wars in Fuyuki. It is all because, in 1936, on the eve of World War II, at the end of the Holy Grail War, this man aided the Nazis in stealing the Greater Grail, before it suddenly vanished."
"So?"
"So, two months ago, this same man, who has not aged a day since 1936, and who has a standing price and kill-on-sight order over his head, recently proclaimed to the Association that the Greater Grail had been in his possession the entire time, and that his organization, Yggdmillennia, were fully seceding from the Association. The Heads of the Clock Tower sent a team of fifty of their best magus hunters to investigate and confront him."
"What happened?"
"Forty nine of them were massacred, and the sole survivor, before dying, was returned here, half mad, and raving about how his comrades had all been slaughtered by a single man; a servant, to be more precise. This confirmed our worst fears, which was that the Holy Grail War, the True one, has once again begun. Only this, time, the reserve system has been activated, meaning that it will be a battle of fourteen, instead of seven."
The lord was silent for a moment, so as to let that statement sink in.
The moment was then ruined by the loud crash heard out in the hallway, causing El-Melloi II to groan in resignation.
In the next instant, a teenager with blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, blonde hair, and a red vest walked in, clutching a small pile of books in his hands, while a sheepish expression was plastered on his too-happy face.
"Sorry about that, Mr. Big Ben London Super Star! I don't know why, but I just tripped on that rug! Here are the books that you asked for."
"Flat, thank you. Also, how many times have I asked you not to call me that, you dumbass?!"
To Lord El-Melloi II, the only descriptions that could be aptly applied to Flat Escardos, besides "massive moron," was "walking irony." On one hand, the teenager had more raw talent and power in magecraft than most of the Lords combined, which, ordinarily, would have made him a tempting prize/ student/ test subject for any magus worth their salt. This was deeply offset, however, by the fact that the boy was such a colossal idiot that no one was willing to deal with him for long. In fact, as the boy had once cheerfully told him, his own parents had tried to kill him, multiple times.
Thus, for several excruciatingly long years, he had been the responsibility of El-Melloi II, long past the number of years one could be student at the clock tower, since El-Melloi II was quite unwilling to let the boy, now nearly twenty years of age, into the wider world, for fear of the damage he could cause. Of course, that just meant that he was still stuck with the irritating brat.
The necromancer chuckled as he watched the amusing scene. "Hey kid."
The boy looked at him, and his face broke open into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Lion!"
"It's Kairi."
"Sorry. Anyway, Mr. Belfaban said he's ready to see you."
As the Necromancer and the blonde boy left, El-Melloi sighed, looking at the box on his desk again. A new Grail War. How terrifying. He still sometimes had nightmares from the farce that he had been involved in. All he could hope was that the team sent by the Clock Tower to participate would fare better than the mage hunters.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp, almost blinding pain on his right hand, making him cry out in pain, and clutch the side of his desk to remain upright, and then he watched in horrid fascination as blood began to seep out of his glove.
Impossible. Impossible!
A moment later, he heard Flat exclaim in pain as well, and then run into the room, clutching his right hand, as blood seeped between his student's fingers.
Oh no. No, no, no, no!
But, alas, it was, he realized, as he removed his now bloody glove. It was indeed, as he feared, as he and Flat watched in gruesome attention as the symbols finished etching themselves onto the Lord's hand.
Flat than spoke, still clutching his bleeding hand, upon which the unseen force was carving his own symbols, his own seals. "I just want you to know, Teacher, that this is not my fault!"
As the pain and bleeding subsided, El-Melloi II raggedly sighed in resignation. Things had just gotten a great deal more complicated, especially when he considered their color...
Millennia Castle
It was a beautiful and serene night, though the eyes of two of the room's residents eyes never once gazed out the gilded window, and instead remained glued to the chessboard in front of them, while the other two, a silent maid and a strange thing of mental and stone resembling the robots from a well-known science fiction movie franchise, stood silently, awaiting orders.
One of the two players, a surprisingly beautiful man dressed in a bright and colorful suit, stroked his short black beard as he gazed at the board from behind his spectacles and considered his next move, while at his side, his left arm, which was covered in in what looked like a large mechanical limb made from steel and gold and gleaming emeralds for joints, flexed as if it were rapidly typing away on something, thus making the sound of softly whirring servos fill the room. The strange mechanical, gem-encrusted bird that was almost always perched on the man's shoulder trilled, the sound like those of a clock's soft, musical chimes, and he stroked it with his unarmored hand, making it coo and blink its emerald eyes in pleasure. The beautiful man's opponent was a handsome figure with gray hair and purple eyes that appeared to be only in his early thirties at most, though he was in actuality much older then he seemed.
"How are the preparations coming, Caster?" the gray-haired man asked, with a surprisingly deep voice, as he moved a pawn forward.
"They have been going like clockwork, Lord Darnic. Everything will soon be running at peak capacity. It's all rather exciting!" The beautiful man exclaimed, his tone happy and upbeat, almost like that of a child, as he moved his left knight forward and to the left.
Darnic looked up for a moment, and studied the man. This was the man renown throughout the world for his still unparalleled genius, and his many contributions to a plethora of subjects, most being well ahead of his time. This was the Golden Man, The Omniscient Genius, the Polymath, and, of course, the quintessential Renaissance man. This was Leonard da Vinci, the Caster-class servant of the Black Faction.
Roche Frain had been unprepared for the fact that his servant, the legendary Painter/ engineer/ sculptor/ mathematician/ etc… Leonardo Da Vinci was a person who was so friendly and open with his emotions. The Caster class Servant always greeted everyone, from homunculi to the other Masters, and even unresponsive golems, with exuberant and extroverted kindness, respect and compassion. To the young boy, who had been raised by emotionless dolls and golems for most of his life, Darnic supposed that it must have been rather unpleasant and disconcerting, to say the least, after summoning the genius over two months ago. Though, despite the Servant's eccentricities, Da Vinci was indeed a boon to the Black Faction in every necessary way.
Despite never having had a Magic Crest or Mage Circuits in his first life, Caster had what could only be described as an abnormally absurd amount of talent in all things related to Thaumaturgy, which, oddly enough, had been recorded in life in the Association Records. The Servant of the Spell had quickly proven himself to be invaluable, helping to greatly speed up the production of golems and homunculi to an exponential amount, including making some powerful adjustments to their designs, as well as reinforcing the defenses of Millennia Castle by marking the entire castle as his Workshop, thus elevating it to a Temple-Class Territory, which worked hand-in-hand with Lancer's Skill. He had also developed powerful magic codes and weapons and armors for the masters and homunculi to employ in the battles to come.
Personally, Darnic was of the hypothesis that The Renaissance Man had been born with an innate connection to the Root, which, combined with his natural genius, had been what allowed him to use magecraft at all. But, that was just Darnic's own opinion, and irrelevant to the War as a whole, just as it was irrelevant that Roche and his servant had very little overall compatibility. In Darnic's mind, it was not something that he felt was of any concern.
Though, he was somewhat glad that the Caster had been summoned only after Lancer had slaughtered that entire force from the Magus Association. Despite his genius, Da Vinci had a surprisingly inflexible moral code, though, for some reason, he had no real objection to the use of the homunculi as batteries. It was apparently just "unnecessary bloodshed" where the famed polymath drew his moral line.
While something of an annoyance to the Master of Lancer, Darnic had decided such a moral code was easily manageable, given the right circumstances.
For a while longer, the two continued playing their chess match in silence.
"If I may be so bold, Master Darnic, then I would like to know if you think that you will emerge victorious in this War?" Caster asked, as he took one of Darnic's pawns with a rook.
Darnic was silent for a moment, and then answered. "It feels like a lifetime ago, that moment when those pathetic rats of the Magus Association cast me out, all because they predicted that my clan was doomed to fall into nothingness. To me, that felt like a death, my first death, since those same rats once believed that I was destined for greatness, until the moment when they cast me aside like so much garbage."
Knight takes rook. "But, despite all expectations, I managed to rise up from the depths into which they cast me. I made Yggdmillennia a name to be reckoned with, then I participated in the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, crushed all who stood before me, and, in the end, managed to obtain the Greater Grail itself."
He could still remember the flames as that city burned, but also how good it had felt, seeing the look on the Nazis' faces as he had stolen the Grail right out from under them, leaving their bodies to rot and bloat in the sea. Even for one like him, that had been an act he would never lose sleep over, considering what the Fascists had later done to his people...
Caster then moved his remaining bishop back. "For sixty years, Caster, I have been preparing. Preparing for this moment, right here in the city of Trifas. It is what sets me apart from all the previous participants of this war, because unlike them, I know what I am getting into. I have been patient, and waiting. So now, this time, I am prepared. This time, I am ready. My opponents in this war, however, will be unprepared."
Pawn takes knight. "I see. So, was my summoning part of your overall planning then, Lord Darnic? A part of your preparations?" Caster asked.
"But of course. You, whose unparalleled genius transcended that of mankind itself, have been most integral to the building of my army of homunculi and golems. Plus, with the usage of the homunculi as the source of replenishing mana, you and the other servants of our faction will be free to utilize all your abilities to your heart's content without the risk of draining your masters dry, and allowing we, your masters to fully utilize our mage craft without fear."
"Indeed. I must say that such a scheme was a brilliant bit of ingenuity on your part."
"Coming from you, that is indeed high and lofty praise. Though, in answer to your earlier question, I am not entirely convinced that my faction will emerge as the victors just yet. It is yet early, and no plan ever truly survives the battlefield. However, I can say that I currently think the odds are stacked in our favor."
Darnic moved his queen, and took Caster's remaining knight. "With the servants that we summon tonight, I will be one step closer to attaining that which all of my kind seek: The Swirl of the Root, that which lies at the center of Existence itself, and the key to true Magic itself. Nothing, especially those worms of the Association, will stand in my way."
For a moment, Caster said nothing, and instead took Darnic's queen with his king, leaving the board bare, save for the two kings. It was a draw.
Then, the Polymath looked up at Darnic, and smiled. "In that case, I shall endeavor to help this faction, and you, attain your desires."
Then, the room's grandfather clock chimed twelve o'clock. Midnight.
At that, the door opened, and a young boy, no more than thirteen years of age, with a large mess of blonde hair on his head, entered. This was Roche, Caster's master. "Excuse me, Darnic, Master Da Vinci? The preparations are done. Everyone is ready."
With their invigorating game now at an end, Darnic stood up. "Come Caster. Lancer is waiting for us. It is time for the other Servants to be summoned."
A wide smile was now on Da Vinci's lips. "How exciting. I can't wait to meet our new teammates! Let us be away!"
Darnic and Da Vinci made their way to one of the castle's larger rooms, in which a throne was situated, along with a large floor, and the rest of the Black Faction.
Seated upon the room's throne was a figure who could one could only attribute with the moniker of "King." He was tall, regal, and clad in fine robes of sable. His hair was a light blonde with tips of blue-turquoise, matching his powerful eyes. His bearded mouth was set into a kingly expression of stern neutrality, and he raised his head slightly in greeting as Darnic and Da Vinci entered.
This figure was none other then Vlad III Tepes, the Prince and Savoir of Wallachia, the Impaling Lord, Scourge of the Ottoman Empire, and the Lancer Class Servant of the Black Faction.
The other members of the Black faction each held their respective catalysts as they stood in front of the collective summoning circle that had been drawn and etched into the marble floor. From his place beside the throne, Darnic observed the members of his extended family, as they readied for the summoning ritual.
Celenike Icecolle Fraga Yggdmillennia, a rather pretty woman of twenty-odd years with hair of grey interspersed with red stripes, and a pair of spectacles balanced upon her nose, produced a pair of metal earrings in her gloved hand for her summoning. These were from one of her parent bloodlines, a formerly isolated magi clan that, though they had not been in decline, had been slighted one too many times by the Association, and thus had agreed to be absorbed into the Yggdmillennia organization, albeit very reluctantly, and after much monetary and personal payment and negotiation. Celenike had been one the more promising results from the Icecolle and Fraga bloodlines mixing, upon Darnic's orders, of course. She, and her sibling, was quite adept at both Curses and Runecraft.
Darnic would have preferred that Celenike's younger sister be one of the faction's masters instead, all things considered, but, unlike her admittedly twisted older sibling, Bazett was stronger willed, and thus less easily controlled. Celenike was a rather simple creature, and thus, more easily maneuvered if her desires were sated and overlooked from time to time. Though, Darnic had asked Bazett to be present in the fortress, just in case Celenike had to be… removed, or if she perhaps fell in the War.
Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a rotund man of thirty-six years with blonde hair, and a small, waxed blonde mustache that was reminiscent of a famed British film star, held in his fist a ragged eye patch, simple in make and design, which had been supplied by Darnic himself, courtesy of the time that he had spent in a particular city on a particular island nation in the east, some decades ago. Despite a rather prodigious talent in alchemy, Gordes suffered from that unfortunate condition known worldwide as an overinflated ego, though, in Gordes' case, Darnic was surprised that the metaphorical balloon had not already burst years ago.
Darnic's young, and quite second rate grandson, Caules, a brown haired teenager with glasses, had been given a piece of ancient, crumbling stone, procured for him by his sister, Fiore, who, though wheelchair bound, was superior to her brother in nearly every way. This catalyst had been found along side her own; an ancient, arrowhead encrusted with dried blood. Despite its age, she still made sure to hold it with a thick glove, which would then have to be burned. One never took chances with the poison of a phantasmal beast, after all.
From the platform, Darnic, Da Vinci, and the kingly servant all watched with anticipation, as Celenike, Gordes, Caules, and Fiore each began to chant…
Stavropoleos Church Cemetery, Bucharest
For a long moment, Kairi did nothing, except sit upon the tombstone and enjoy the acrid feel and taste of the nicotine smoke entering his lungs from the cancer stick. As he did, the necromancer stared at the catalyst that he had been given. To the average observer, it seemed like an ordinary piece of wood, old and well preserved. In a way, it was, but, according to the old man, it was also so much more. A fragment of the most important and famous object in history… the Round table.
The necromancer than turned his thoughts to why he was here, why he had been given the catalyst in the first place, and why he had etched the summoning circle into the ground of the graveyard.
The Holy Grail War, a secret bloodbath which was, for all intense purposes, a glorified battle royal between seven magi and the ancient heroes that they summoned, all for the chance at the ultimate prize; a Wish. It was the chance for the deepest desires of the victor's heart to become made manifest.
That was one hell of a thing to fight to the death for.
He glanced at the crimson seals on his hand, took one last drag before flicking away his spent cigarette, looked over the circle that he had etched into the ground one last time, adjusted his sunglasses, stretched out his hand, and began to recite the chant that he had been given by El-Melloi II…
Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let Black/ Red be the color I pay tribute to.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.
I hereby declare.
Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!
An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,
come forth from the ring of restraints,
Protector of the Holy Balance!
Then, with a great blue glow and flash, the ancient heroes of legend set foot in the living world once again.
Gordes' servant was a young-looking man of average height, dressed in a silver umanori and kimono, dark purple tabi, and simple geta with white haori pants and black tekkou upon his wrists, all of which was then covered by, and covered, an equally simple set of traditional yoroi armor of the same colors. Belted at his waist were two beautifully crafted katanas, one with a handle of red, and the other a handle of blue. The Servant's oddest features were his short silver hair, and the eye patch covering his right eye that resembled the one that Gordes had employed as a catalyst. Other than that, he seemed… unremarkable. Nothing about him seemed to mark him as special, at least on the surface. Indeed, were it not for his hair and eyepatch, his would be the kind of face that could easily get lost among a crowd.
A rather serene, almost bored expression adorned this Servant's face, as he gazed upon his rotund master, and the others in the room with some apparent disdain. A vein was already pulsing angrily on Gordes' forehead at the Servant's apparent disrespect.
Caules' servant was so large, that the boy had fallen backwards in some fright when the giant had appeared in front of him from the summoning circle. The being was almost three meters in height and packed with muscle. The beast's hair was a wild mane of fur-like hair that reached near the small of his back, interspersed with small braids wrapped in red bandages. It was clad only in a long red kilt-like piece of clothing covered in spiked iron plates, while clamped around each of its bare ankles was a ball and chain, like what was once used in chain gangs and prisons. This Servant's most noticeable features were the two enormous red horns that curved up from its head; its eyes, which were pure black, save for its crimson irises; the multitude of scars that covered its bare torso and iron band-covered arms; and, of course, the two ENORMOUS axes that he clutched in his hands. Caules definitely had taken notice of those right away!
The giant looked down upon his now somewhat terrified summoner with a subdued wisdom and knowing that seemed out of place within his beastly frame. All watched as Caules gingerly rose to his feet. The Servant then slowly exhaled, the sound like the bellows of a massive furnace. The brute seemed to give off an aura that was at once strong, unrelenting, and yet… also sad and lonely, like a whipped creature that had long ago resigned itself to its fate.
Standing before Celenike was a man who could not have been any older that his early twenties. He was tall, lean and muscular, like a wolfhound, and clad in knightly-looking armor that was a seamless collage of blue and brown steel and leather and chain and strange runes, over and under which were long, sky-blue robes of powerful leather and metal studs. A mighty cloak and fur hood of blue, trimmed and chased with gold and white and silver, clasped together with a golden brooch, helped to complete the ensemble and image of a powerful warrior-prince. Across his waist was a wide, white rope belt of scale-like links.
His hair was a deep cerulean, long, and tied back in a rough and messy wolf's tail, save for two thin bangs on his right temple, and one large one on his left. The Servant's left arm was gauntleted in metal, and his right lightly sheathed in a leather glove and vambrace. His ears were pierced with two pairs of earrings; one pair resembling the catalyst used to summon him, and the other simple, small rings. Hanging around his neck was a visible medallion finely wrought in the shape of a wolf's head clutching a crescent moon in its jaws. Under his red, slit eyes were intricate red markings that went down his cheeks. His left arm held an ordinary shield. Not one that contained a world, nor one that represented the ultimate protection of a distant utopia's fortress. It was just a simple, round, sturdy thing of metal, leather, and wood used to turn aside weapons both mighty and small.
This warrior gave off the impression of a mighty war-beast, one that was noble in mien and bearing, but could also be an absolute terror on the battlefield if the need arose. He looked about, and gave a flippant smirk at his fellow servants and the other masters, almost as if he were sizing them up for battle, while his shield dematerialized into blue motes, ready to be used at a later time.
Fiore's summoned servant was a tall man in somewhat archaic clothing. To everyone present, his very being was like that of an ancient forest: great, all encompassing, protective, and immeasurably wise. He was clean-shaven, tan-skinned, like those of mediterranean descent, and brown-haired. His face, though impassive, seemed warm, kind, and understanding. His most remarkable feature was that he had the lower body of a horse, thus marking him as a centaur. This feature seemed to surprise him, for some reason.
All the servants were now summoned. The Black Faction was near to completion.
Then, Lancer stood up from his throne. "I bid you all greetings, my fellow servants of the Black Faction. As per the agreements of our summoners, I shall now ask you all to reveal your true names, so that a modicum of trsut might be established between us."
The blue-haired man decided to go first, giving a flippant wave. "Yo. Name's Cu Chulainn. Rider class. Kinda wish I had been summoned as a Lancer, but I guess this version of me isn't so bad. Just point me in the enemy's direction, let me do my thing, and you'll win this war in no time!"
The one-eyed swordsman gave a polite bow at the waist. "Konbanwa, my friends. I am pleased to be among such esteemed company. I am simply a humble swordsman, Yagyu Jubei. I am honored to be fighting alongside such powerful warriors. I will do my best to be of use to you all in this strange Holy Grail War."
With a nod of greeting, the Rider, Cu Chulainn, then looked up at the white-haired behemoth that was Caules' servant, with an appraising glance. "How about you, big fella? You got a name?"
The Berserker-class Servant, for he could have been nothing else, looked down at them all for a moment, blinked, and then slowly spoke, as if each word were… not a chore, but more like he just did not speak very often. "Asterios."
The centaur gave a nod of his head, and a warm smile to all within the room. "Hello. I am Chiron. It is a pleasure to meet you all."
Caster was the next to speak. With a flourish of his unarmored arm, he doffed his cap, and then bowed deeply. "Greetings, one and all! I am greatly pleased to inform all present that you have the honor of working alongside the Great Artist of Italy, the Golden Man of the Renaissance, the Polymath of Tuscany, and The Genius of Vinci, himself. I am Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, at your service as the Caster of the Black Faction!"
"Indeed," remarked Lancer. "It gladdens my heart to know that our faction is comprised of such mighty heroes. I am Vlad Tepes III, and I am the Lancer Class Servant of this Black Faction! Know that, with our combined power, we will easily be able to annihilate the Red Faction and their Servants. I look forward to your great and brave achievements, my proud and fearless heroes!"
With that, they all departed from the room.
Darnic and Lancer retired to Darnic's personal study, which he had graciously set aside for Lancer. As Darnic began to pour the infamous king a glass of red from his personal stores, they began to talk. "If I may inquire, my lord, what are your opinions on your new subordinates?"
"I find them to be most satisfactory, Darnic, especially our Rider and Saber. Such magnificent warriors, the pair of them!"
Indeed, the prowess of both Cu Chulainn and Yagyu Jubei could not be denied. The former was essentially the Irish version of Heracles, and the other was one of, if not the, greatest swordsman in the history of Japan.
With them as their frontline fighters, alongside the Berserker, Darnic felt quite assured that all would fall before the Black Faction's new might.
"Indeed. Ireland's Child of Light, Cu Chulainn; The Centaur Sage who taught many heroes, Chiron; The Greatest swordsman of Japan, Yagyu Jubei; The Bull of Minos, and monster of the Labyrinth of Daedalus, the Minotaur; and, of course, the Genius Renaissance man of Italy, Leonardo da Vinci. If only I had had such fine and powerful allies with me in my first life, than I would not have been taken prisoner, and I would not have been forced to shoulder the disgusting name, or have it shackled to my legend."
Darnic knew better than to mention aloud that particular legend, spread by a certain author almost two centuries ago. Because of that, save for Romanina, where he was lauded as a great hero, Lancer was known throughout the world by another name and legend, that of the blood-sucking vampire, Dracula.
With an elegant motion befitting his status as a king, Lancer sipped at his beverage, though a slight frown now adorned his face.
"Is there something the matter, my Lord?"
"Nothing, save for the fact that our faction is not yet complete. We are still missing Assassin, after all."
"Yes, Jack the Ripper, the murderer that terrorized the Streets of White Chapel, and indeed the entirety of England, over a century ago, and was thus likened to a demon. But please, do not worry, my lord. She should be arriving with her master any time now. To make sure, I had dispatched the Zugzwang to escort them."
Bucharest
On the upper floor of an upscale hotel in the city of Bucharest, there lay a gruesome sight. It was the sight of a desiccated corpse of a rather rat-like man with bleached-blonde hair, surrounded by the corpses of more men and women. Of course, any observer would be drawn to the fact that large, bloody holes were situated where their hearts were supposed to be, as well as the fact that the first man was missing his jaw and right hand. He looked like he had died in a great deal of agony, and not right away. The others seemed to have died from either massive blood loss or slit throats.
The unfortunate, jawless and handless man had once been known as Hyouma Sagara, a member of the Yggdmillennia, and the intended master of Assassin. Now, unfortunately (or, in dark sort of way, fortunately) he was quite dead, after many days of a tortured, prolonged existence. The other corpses had been members of the Zugzwang, the assassins of the Yggdmillennia, sent to locate him, now also quite dead.
Meanwhile, walking out of a dark Alleyway, towards the city's main train station, was an odd pair. One, a woman of 23 years with grayish-green hair, was dressed in a provocative green miniskirt and fur jacket, and seemed possessed of both a weathered beauty, and a disconcerting look in her eye. The other was a tiny child dressed in a rather pretty white sundress with oddly white hair and ice-blue eyes, while a happy smile adorned her face. The two were holding hands, like a mother and her child, while the woman rolled behind her a large rolling suitcase.
What made this sight more disturbing than it should ever have to be was the fact that the "little girl" was covered in stitched-up scars, including one leading down from her lower eye lid, as well as the fact that the right side of her face was liberally splashed with blood.
"That was a lot of fun mommy! Those souls were very tasty! We feel right good and full now!"
"That's wonderful, Jack. It makes me happy to see you smile."
"Well, it makes us happy that you're happy, mommy." The "girl" then licked some of the blood off of her lips with a grin. "Yummy."
Behind them, the corpse of their most recent victim lay sprawled out against a trash bin, like so much rubbish; once an ordinary, every day citizen, no more evil or good than anyone else, now just a motionless, savaged corpse.
"Oh dear," the older woman said suddenly, as they got closer to the station.
"What's wrong mommy?"
"I'm afraid that we may soon run out of tasty hearts for you. We'll have to get more soon."
"Okay, mommy."
The woman's grin then widened, and the sight of it would have sent chills down the spine of anyone unfortunate to cross their paths. "Luckily, I think I know where we can find some more."
"Yay!"
Upon her right hand, the woman's black command seals seemed to glow, like the empty space that lay between stars.
The next day
In one of the many, richly decorated rooms of the Millennia Castle, Gordes sipped from his personal stash of expensive drinks, as a form of celebration, and then snapped his fingers.
"Saber! Appear before me."
In a flash of blue, the Servant did. "What do you require, Master?"
"I want to make something perfectly clear to you Saber. You currently exist only to fight for the glory of Yggdmillennia. In fact, you are nothing more than a glorified familiar, and you must obey my commands. All you have to do is fight, nothing else. Do you understand?"
Saber's one eye betrayed no emotion, but anyone more empathic would have recognized the disdain radiating from his entire being, and all of it aimed towards the portly master.
"Understood, Master."
There was nothing but silence for a moment, and then Gordes spoke up again.
"What is your wish, Saber?" Gordes asked of the Legendary Swordsman.
"Excuse me?" the Servant asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Your wish, you imbecile. You could not have been allowed to be summoned into a Holy Grail War unless there was something you desired above all else to wish for. So, tell me, what is it?"
"My wish?" Jubei looked out the window for a moment. "If you must know, that I suppose that it would be to no longer be remembered as a hero, and to simply wander."
Gordes nearly spat out his brandy in shock at that statement. "What? Are you shitting me, Saber? What kind of ridiculous wish is that?"
"I have no reason to explain my desires to you, master, nor would I ever expect you to understand. I am simply here to fight, as you said. Nothing more. Nonetheless, it is my wish."
The grinding of Gordes' teeth sounded like the grating of stones upon steel. "Utter foolishness. What sort of hero would want to erase his or her own legend? Are you just being difficult? Are you lying to me? You forget, I've seen your memories! I know what happened to you for those twelve years! Why would you want to erase any of that?"
In lieu of an answer, Saber's one visible eye simple narrowed, as if he were wordlessly reprimanding his master for daring to question his personal desires.
With a growl of displeasure and a wave, Gordes dismissed his Servant, and then took a long swallow of brandy as the swordsman vanished into blue motes.
What a stupid wish.
Despite that, Gordes was still… somewhat satisfied with his Servant. His stats were excellent, his skills exceedingly useful (including one in particular), his phantasms unbeatable, and the Servant was for the most part obedient to Gordes' command.
With the strongest servant at his side, Gordes would blaze his way to glory and victory, elevating the name of Clan Musik above all others. Yes, Gordes would win this war, and nothing was going to stand in his way!
Like any self-respecting castle/ fortress/ medieval age-era estate, there was a rather expansive dungeon located in the subterranean levels of the Millennia Castle. It was more that generously supplied with the usual items required for such an area to be called a "dungeon"; bars, chains attached to the walls of the cells, racks, torture rooms filled with an assorted of the required torture devices, etc…
Among the residents of the Fortress, it was an unspoken law that the dungeons were the domains of Celenike, and that one should never enter it when she was about the premises.
The reason for this was quite simple. Celenike was a woman driven by her desires. Unfortunately, those desires included such activities as the rape, torture, and murder of handsome men and "pretty boys," with the odd homunculus servant thrown into the horrific mess.
She preferred strapping her victims down to a table, and having her way with them, often while she dismembered them with sharp implements, as the current center of her attentions was now discovering, much to his bored disgust, though, thankfully, for her, she was not using the aforementioned bladed implements.
From the moment that he had clapped eyes on her, Rider could tell right away that his summoner was not the sort of woman who could ever be called "a good person." Hell, he had enough experience with such people, especially women, that it was nearly a sixth sense to him. This was strongly reinforced by his current position; strapped to a table, shirtless, while she slowly licked her way up his intricately tattooed chest, making rather creepy dog(?) noises all the while.
To The Hound of Chulainn, his current master actually reminded him a bit of his old teacher, at least superficially, in the fact that she was almost definitely a dark sorceress. Everything else about her, though, including the way that she was acting with him? Yeah, it was like that bitch Medb all over again. Fucking fantastic. Why was it that most of the women that he ever seemed to interact with but want nothing to do with were lust-filled psychos? Besides, he was a Servant, dammit, with a capital "S", and thus meant to fight other great heroes in glorious battles to the death! He was not a gods-damned sex toy!
With a sigh, he broke the restraints holding him to the rack with unthinking ease, and got up, gently pushing his creepy master off, before wiping off the trail of spittle from his chest and stomach. Gross. "Look, I get that you're the kind of person that's into this sort of thing, but, well, I'm not. So, if you'll excuse me…"
She looked up at him in confusion, as he got to his feet and put on his shirt. "What? Where are you going, Rider?"
"Gonna look around. Ya know, get a lay of the land, and find defensible positions, all the jazz? So, see ya later. Let me know when we're ready to fight, cause I really don't want to be down here again."
With a lazy, flippant wave, he walked out the door, closing it behind him as he left.
Celenike watched him as he departed, her eyes glued to his lean and broad back. With a blush on her cheeks, and a hungry look in her spectacled eyes, she began to groan in desire as she… rubbed herself.
"Oh, Rider. You're going to be mine. I'll never let you go. I'll hold on to you forever. I can't wait to hear you scream, Child of Light. I'm going to make you mine!"
With a crack of his neck, Rider exited from the dungeon. He needed some fresh air, a good walk, a spar with one of the other servants… and also maybe a bath. Yes, a bath would help, a lot. There was a river nearby, right? Or maybe, he could try one of those "showers" he had learned about from the grail.
"Excuse me."
The voice shook him from his thoughts, and he turned to behold a woman about the age he had been when he died, if maybe a year or two younger. Her short, pageboy style hair was a light maroon and her eyes were a deep brown. She was dressed in a rather masculine fashion, and had a single mole under her eye.
To Rider's slight disgust, she had a slight resemblance to his Master, but he then decided that he would reserve judgment until they actually spoke.
"Yeah?" he asked.
She said nothing for a moment, almost as if she were trying to work up her courage. "Cat got your tongue, girl?"
"No. Sorry, it's just… you're you!"
"Yeah, last time I checked."
"Again, sorry. It's just that I've always loved your legend, ever since I was a little girl. I mean, you're Cu fucking Chulainn! The man who held off entire armies, even after you were dead!"
Huh, so she was a fan. That was… better? "What's your name, lady?"
"It's Bazett, Bazett Fraga Icecolle Yggdmillennia, and, unfortunately… your "master" is my older sister."
Ah, so that explained the resemblance. Well, he wouldn't hold that against her. "So, tell me more about yourself, miss Bazett…"
As the heroic spirit and the spirited woman began to chat, mostly about runes and combat, Cu Chulainn felt that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Unbeknownst to them, Celenike was watching the two begin to bond, and an unhealthy expression began to form in her eyes and on her face…
Down below, beneath even the dungeons, was a large, expansive laboratory that seemed to stretch on for a good few miles, and would not have looked out of place in a science fiction movie or novel or comic. A generous portion of this space was taken up by strange vessels connected to the by a plethora of wires. Within each of these vessels floated a sleeping humanoid floating in green fluid. The other portion resembled more of a large hanger, complete with metal scaffolding, walkways, cranes, and such. Here, there was continuous construction of beings made from metal and stone and marble that were large, small, bulky, and lean.
This expansive area was where the Yggdmillennia, with Caster's genius assistance, Roche's clan's knowledge, and the techniques and knowledge that Gorde's ancestors had pilfered from the Einzberns, had been constructing and growing their armies of golems and homunculi.
Roche was a rather small boy of about thirteen years, and was already a true prodigy of his craft. Caster felt slightly honored to have been summoned by a fellow prodigy.
Unfortunately for the Renaissance man, Roche was also not a person who valued human relationships very much. As such, the young boy looked upon the Servant of the Spell as a student may a teacher, but nothing else. Any attempts the Leonardo made to become friends with the boy were awkwardly rebuffed.
After a while, the Golden Man had decided to put aside his attempts at forging a friendship with his master for the time being, and focus on the tasks that Darnic had asked of him.
Despite the fact that the Lord of Yggdmillennia's personality, and indeed, very being, rubbed Da Vinci the wrong way (like he wouldn't have found out about that massacre!), the legendary artist had found his goals and mostof his methods too intriguing to pass up, though, Leonardo did still feel a bit uneasy with the homunculi's role in this strange Grail War.
As such, he tried to make sure that each of the homunculi was as full developed as possible, with a full and normal lifespan. Even batteries should be allowed to be beautiful and long lasting, after all!
A small retinue of homunculi, each either a beautifully handsome man or a handsomely beautiful woman, as according to the artist's personal tastes, followed the Servant about, carrying out his instructions to the letter, and listening attentively to his orders. He had chosen these specifically, due to their innate talent, and, yes, their appearances. Indeed, he had even given them names; some he named after past lovers, and others he had bequeathed the names of friends from his past.
Yes, he had had female lovers, in his first life, along side the men. To the Genius of Vinci, gender had never been something that had mattered to him in the slightest. Only beauty had ever truly captivated him, and beauty always came in all shapes and sizes. As such, he had pursued that ideal all his life, and had attained it in various, though sadly incomplete forms.
Shaking his head, he refocused his attentions on the tasks at hand.
"Status report, Salai," he inquired of one of them, a male.
"The next combat batch has been successfully retrieved from the tanks, Master Da Vinci. They have already been clothed, and are ready."
"Very good, very good, darling. Isabella, dear, have you anything to add?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, some of the battery homunucli have not survived. They died upon being removed from their tanks. Some did not even make it that far," she replied.
"Hmm. Must have been from some of the earlier batches. I should have fixed that defect sooner. Very well. Make sure they are buried with some dignity. Then make sure that the next sets of golems are completed and totally operational. We need several more batches ready within the next few days. Ask Roche if you need any assistance on that front."
"Very good, Master Da Vinci."
So much to do, so many things to finish, so much excitement! Any lesser human would have buckled under the strain, but, unlike them, Da Vinci was a genius! With that great genius, he would help push the Black Faction of the Great Grail War straight towards the gleaming spires of victory!
After that, when the Red Faction was defeated… well, he would deal with that when the time came.
Plus, one of his familiars had reported strange activity in a few of the neighboring cities. He would have to investigate!
On his shoulder, his bird cooed and trilled again…
Almost a day had passed since the summoning ritual, and, to Caules' slight shame, he had been unsure on how to approach the massive giant, and so had left Berserker alone for a good bit. Though, in his defense, how did one approach a three meter-tall giant who could crush your head with two fingers, as a well as the fact that said ten foot-tall, head crushing giant was the Berserker class, a servant not known for it's restraint or overall sanity?
Nevertheless, today, the teen had decided to be more proactive, and try to get at least a measure of his new servant's abilities. As such, he was now out on one of the fields surrounding Millennia Castle, setting up inactive golems that Caster and Roche had deemed unusable.
Meanwhile, his Berserker servant simply stood upon one of the area's small, flower covered hills, watching his master with unblinking, red-and-black eyes.
To Caules' surprise, that same hill was where the giant had been all of the night and morning. Simply sitting, and looking around in strange wonder at the sky and his surroundings.
It made sense to the bespectacled backup magus, considering what he had gleaned from the Dream Cycle the night before.
Asterios, the bastard offspring of King Minos' wife, Queen Pasiphae, and a bull; Asterios, whose conception and birth had been the result of a curse bestowed upon the king of Crete by the sea god, Poseidon. After the child's birth, Minos had had him imprisoned in an endless, unsolvable maze, constructed by the famed architect, Daedalus. That labyrinth had been the child's entire world, where his only nourishment had been the forced sacrifices of Athens. In time, the child had grown into a man-eater, and had been given another name, the only one that had ever been recorded in the annals of history: Minotauros, otherwise known as the bull of Minos, the Minotaur of Crete.
"Are you ready, Asterios?"
He saw the giant slowly nod, as his massive axes materialized into his hands. "Right, now, attack! Show me what you can do."
After waiting for Caules to get to a safe distance, Berserker attacked.
He seemed like a blur of muscle. When he struck, such was the strength of his blows that the golems were pulverized into fine dust. He did not even notice when an errant piece of stone bounced off his horned head.
A few moments later, all the golems had been destroyed, with Berserker standing among the ruins. "Okay Berserker, that's enough. That was a great display!"
At that, he watched as his Servant slowly walked back to his little hill and sat down with a loud thump.
Anyone else would have just treated the Servant with fear, or as simply a blunt weapon to be pointed and let loose at the enemy. Not Caules, though. Not after that moment he had witnessed in the dream cycle.
He had finally done it! Years of memorizing all the twists and turns of his home and prison. Now here it was, the way out! He could be free!
It was so bright! So big! So… much… so much more than what he, a monster, deserved….
In the dream, Caules had watched as Asterios had finally found a way out of the Labyrinth. Freedom had been right in front of him. But, instead of taking it, the Master had watched in shock as the Berserker had simply turned around, and then headed back, back into his prison.
Caules had felt the guilt radiating from his Servant's memories in that moment, guilt at how a monster like him, who had killed and eaten so many people in order to survive, had not deserved freedom, only death upon the sword of a hero, which he had finally gotten, at the hands of a sorrowful and understanding Theseus.
It was at the moment in the Dream Cycle that Caules had realized that this Servant was not a mindless brute, but instead simply a sad and pitiful being who had only wanted to die out of guilt for all that he had been forced to do in order to survive. Therefore, Berserker, no, Asterios, did not deserve to be treated as one. Instead, he deserved at least some compassion.
It was admittedly not the proper mindset of a magus, but, to Caules, it was simply the right thing to do.
Besides, he figured that if he did try and treat Berserker like shit, then it would not end well at all!
Though, there was still the question of his Noble Phantasm. While, on one hand, Calues was glad that it was not a Suicide-type, on the other hand, Chaos Labyrinthos, being an EX-ranked phantasm, was not something that could be easily used.
"Asterios, from here on, do not use your Noble Phantasm unless I order you to. Do you understand?"
The behemoth blinked once, and then nodded.
This tea was quite good, mused Chiron, as he sipped at the beverage. He had to admit when he had been summoned, not only he had been summoned to a team, which was unheard of, but also now, here silent homunculi maids were serving him tea with his master. While he had never actually been treated poorly in previous grail wars, per se, but nor had he been treated so kindly. He had to lie upon the floor since, for some reason, he had been unable to disguise himself into a fully human shape.
"I hope you like your drink, Archer," his master said, as she sipped at her beverage.
"Indeed, it is quite delicious, as are the pastries. I must compliment your fine taste in beverages and food."
To his surprise, she actually blushed and smiled nervously.
As they continued to eat and drink, the centaur sage studied his summoner. She was pretty, if somewhat small. Her brown wavy hair was long and well cared for, and her eyes were clear, blue, and kind. In fact, despite her immense talent, her whole demeanor was not that of a magus at all, not that he minded.
Her most obvious feature was, of course, the fact that she was wheelchair bound, with her legs being motionless and slightly twisted. He did hope that it would not hamper her performance during the War.
"If I may be so bold as to ask, Master…?"
"Hm? Oh, please, call me Fiore."
Very unlike a magus, he thought with a smile. "Very well. I was wondering what your wish for the Holy Grail was, Fiore."
To his surprise, she actually looked a bit embarrassed, and turned her head away fro a moment. "You may thing it selfish, but I wish to gain full function of my legs, while keeping my magecraft. When I was born, there was a malfunction in my mage circuits, which left my legs crippled. There are ways for them to be healed, but… they would require me to give up my existence as a magus. I guess I just want the best of both worlds, as it were. I'm sorry if you think that a selfish thing, Chiron."
She had felt ashamed at such an innocent wish? Remarkable. "There is no need to worry yourself, Mas… Fiore, for yours is no more selfish than mine. My wish is to regain the immortality that I gave up when I died. Not because I desire to be a god, mind you, but because it was the only thing that my parents ever gave me. So, as I said, do not be ashamed of your wish."
She smiled at that, and then actually chuckled, and raised her teacup. "To selfish wishes, then, Chiron?"
He returned her smile, and raised his own cup. "To selfish wishes, Fiore."
The clink of their cups rang out like laughter on a sunny spring day.
Unknown area of Romania
El-Melloi finished the circle, and set the catalyst down in front of it, while Flat and the others waited, prepared, and watched.
For a moment afterwards, the Lord did nothing but look upon the symbol etched into his hand, its glow reminding him of the color of that endless ocean. Was he truly willing to go down this path once again, with all the hardships and pain that could result from it?
A moment later, he clenched his fist. Yes. Always.
With that, he stretched out his hand, and began to chant, just as the others did….
Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let the stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation
Let Blue be the color that I pay tribute to.
Let a wall be raised against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.
I hereby declare.
Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!
An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,
come forth from the ring of restraints,
Protector of the Holy Balance!
A moment later, as the glow from his circle faded, boisterous laughter could be heard echoing throughout the night air.
Servants of Black:
Saber: Yagyu Jubei
Master Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia
Strength: B
Agility: A++
Endurance: B
Mana: B
Luck: A
Noble phantasm: A+
Class skills.
Magic Resistance: A
Has a rather high Magic Resistance, especially in comparison to that of his father's. The reason for why this is unknown, and Juubei himself doesn't seem to know why that is. Cancel spells of A rank or lower, no matter what High-Thaumaturgy it is.
Riding: B
Juubei wasn't someone noted for his skill in riding, even choosing to walk rather than ride more times than not. It is only because of his training that he doesn't have a lower rank in this skill. Most vehicles and animals can be handled with above average skill. However, he can't ride members of Phantasmal Species such as Monstrous Beasts.
Personal Skills.
Information Erasure: A-
Juubei is noted to not have nearly as much information about him in the Yagyu family's extensive family records, as well as disappearing all together for 12 years. What he was doing during this 12 years period, or why so little is written about him in the family records, is something that has eluded historians for years. All information involving Juubei will be erased as soon as one loses sight of him, even recordings through devices such as cameras. Even evidence that can tie to his identity is also removed. However, this skill is less effective if he tells someone his true name voluntarily, otherwise is only his master free from this effect.
Shinkage-ryuu: A+++
Juubei, much like his father, was taught about the sword from his father since birth, and showed clear signs of being a prodigy very early on. Already at the age of 24 was it stated that he was the clan's greatest swordsman, which is a tough accomplishment when one considers his father's skill with the sword. He would later contribute greatly to the Shinkage-ryuu after having mastered it, evolving the art further, and even create his own technique: Chie-no-Ken. Juubei doesn't only possess sword techniques, but also a resistance to mental attacks and interference. At this rank has one mastered all that comprises the Yagyu Shinkage-ryuu, even reaching the mental state Suigetsu, without the skill.
Ninjutsu: C++
One theory about what happened with Juubei during the 12 years he disappeared from records is that he was recruited as a ninja to the Tokugawa Shogunate for a time. Whether this is true or not is anybody's guess, but he did learn the art at some point, and was quite proficient in all their 18 disciplines. Juubei was however never trained in any of the mayor schools such as Iga, Koga and Fuma, and is therefore unable to have a higher ranking in this skill.
Mystic Eyes: A
Juubei possess a Mystic Eye that is in a way similar to Musashi's Empyrean Eye, but is fundamentally different. It allows Juubei to change events from his perpective up to a single instant in time, allowing him to make actions that the opponent can't predict. For example can he change events so that his sword is being swung - despite still being in its sheath - and place it the moment before it would make contact with the opponent's body, making the attack inevitable. However, this puts a huge strain on his body, which grows greater the more events he need to change, as his body is forced to move close to instantaneously. He keeps it in check with his eyepatch, Mystic Eyes Killer.
Noble phantasms.
Juuchi Yosamu: A+ (Anti-Unit). One of two swords that Juubei came across at some point during the 12 years period he disappeared from records. It is a sword forged by Sengo Muramasa, supposed to be used in a competition against his mentor, Masamune. Something should be impossible, as they didn't live at the same time and couldn't possibly have met. It is a master piece of Japanese swords, and one of his closest creations to accomplish his goal, while also failing.
Juuchi Yosamu is a beautiful katana that seems to radiate bloodlust from itself when drawn from its sheath. When using this sword, the blade cuts the opponent by 'freezing' the flow of life and severing the body. What this means is that Juuchi Yosamu freezes natural energies at the point of contac (preventing any kind of restoration) and cuts the body, creating a wound that will never heal. Even if the severed limb were to be surgically reattached, it would be impossible to use the limb normally as the wound is a suspension of time at the point of injury.
When speaking the true name of Juuchi Yosamu will it transform into the pinnacle of its concept from legend, 'That Which Cuts Everything'. For a single stroke can it 'cut' anything, whether it is a physical target or metaphysical concepts such as causality. All defenses become nothing in its path, being as easily 'cut' as everything else that gets in Juuchi Yosamu's path.
Yawarakai-Te: A+. Anti-Unit, Anti-Unit (Self). The other sword that Juubei came across during the 12 years he disappeared. It is the sword that Masamune is supposed to have forged to compete against his student, Muramasa. Which, once again, should be impossible, as Masamune died before Muramasa was even born.
Yawarakai-Te is a beautiful katana that doesn't radiate any kind of emotion like Juuchi Yosamu, appearing serene when compared to its counterpart. It possesses a passive ability, which prevents it from cutting anything that has caused no harm to man while dealing extra damage to those who have. Furthermore, the blade also possesses the ability to disperse the energy of all attacks and defenses that come into contact with its blade into the surrounding atmosphere. This not only makes the sword an excellent defensive tool (as it reduces attacks to less than standard physical force) but a fearsome offensive tool as well since it can bypass magical defenses with ease.
When speaking its true name Yawarakai-Te will create a Bounded field around Juubei's body that will continuesly heal any damage he experience while it's active. This Bounded field is holy in origin, granting him an increased resistance against curses. Juubei becomes unable to use Juuchi Yosamu while this is in effect however.
(A/N. This Servant was the brainchild of Library of the mind, who has graciously allowed me to use this in my story.)
Lancer: Vlad III
Master: Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia
Stats
STR: B
END: B
AGI: A
MAN: A
LCK: D
NP: A
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: B
Charisma: B
Riding: B+ (Due to his being summoned in Romania, with his fame boost)
Personal Skills
Demonic Defender of the State: EX
Protection of the Faith: A+++
Battle Continuation: A
Military Tactics: B
Noble Phantasm(s)
Kazikli Bey: B
Legend of Dracula: A+
Archer: Chiron
Master: Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia
Stats
STR: B
END: A
AGI: A++
MAN: B
LCK: C
NP: A
Class skills
Independent Action: A
Magic Resistance: B
Divinity: C
Persona Skills
Clairvoyance: B+
Eye of the Mind (True): A
Consecration of Eternal Life: C
Wisdom of Divine Gift: A+
Noble Phantasm
Antares Snipe: A
Rider: Cu Chulainn
Master: Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia
Stats
STR: A+
END: B+
AGI: A+
MAN: A
LCK: D
NP: A
Class Skills
Riding: A+
Magic Resistance: B
Divinity: B
Independent Action: B
Personal Skills
Battle Continuation: A
Sage of the Forest: A (Combines Territory creation and Primordial Rune)
Protection from Arrows: A
Blessing of Wakefulness: C (Combines natural body and disengage)
Double Summon: B (Rider and Caster)
Noble phantasms
Ochd Deug Odin: A
Phantom Chariot: A. Chulainn's legendary chariot, the only one he could ride without breaking. Gives Cu Chulainn access to many weapons, including a bow and arrows, a sword, his spear, and many others.
Gae-Bolg: B: Due to not being summoned as Lancer, Gae Bolg can reverse causality, but has lost it's anti unit ability, unless certain conditions are met, which include Rider reinforcing the weapon with the runes of Ochd Deug Odin, thus limiting it to once per night.
Wicker-Man: B
Riastrad: A+
In essence, Rider Cu Chulainn summoned in Western Europe makes him a near perfect foil to Achilles. Were he to be summoned in Ireland, as a lancer, he would be near unstoppable.
Berserker: Asterios
Master: Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia
Stats
STR: A++
END: A++
AGI: C
MAN: D
LCK: E
NP: EX
Class Skills
Mad Enhancement: B
Independent Action: A
Personal Skills
Monstrous Strength: A
Natural Monster: A++
Avyssos of Labrys: C
Natural Direction: A. Due to spending his whole life in a Labyrinth, Asterios will never get lost, and will instinctively know how to navigate one.
Noble Phantasm:
Chaos Labyrinthos: EX
Caster: Da Vinci
Master: Roche Frain Yggdmillennia
Stats
STR: E
END: E
AGI: C
MAN: A+
LCK: B
NP: EX
Class Skills
Item Construction: EX
Territory Creation: A
Personal Skills
Natural Born Genius: EX
Pioneer of the Stars: EX
Natural Connection to the Root: ? (Combines High Speed divine words, Magecraft, Witchcraft, High Speed-Incantation)
Self-Modification (Beauty): EX
Noble Phantasm
Uomo Universale: EX
Assassin: Jack the Ripper
Master: Reika Rikudou
Former Master: Sagara Hyouma
Stats
STR: C
END: C
AGI: A
MAN: C
LCK: E
NP: C
Class Skills
Presence Concealment: A+
Mad Enhancement: C
Personal Skills
Murderer of the Misty Night: A
Mental Pollution: C
Information Erasure: B
Surgical Procedure: E
Noble Phantasm(s)
Maria the Ripper: D-B
The Mist: C
A/N New story time. Please be kind and read and review.