The Throne of Heroes.
It was a place outside of the time axis, impossible to access by the means of humans. Observing, analyzing, and constantly monitoring, its task was to record the information of the great heroes birthed throughout the ages. It's a place unaffected by time, allowing it to record the information of the heroes of old along with the potential heroes of the future.
Nobody knows exactly why it exists, but its existence was certain. For without it, the historical legends of heroes and villains wouldn't have a place to be stored after death. It didn't matter if a story was more well known than the other, for every story was equally important to each other. Beliefs, customs, and the history of the world was built on the stories of old. Without them, human history would fall apart.
However, the stories stored within the Throne of Heroes could be interpreted differently. Existing across time and space, the storage system became filled with many different variations of the same stories. They were mostly small changes, but there were some with incredibly drastic differences. To separate these stories and effectively establish a 'True' history, an outsider force separated the variations of stories into the background and replaced them with the 'Original' stories.
Akasha, The Root of All Things, was the outsider force that accomplished this. From it, the cycle of life and death is recycled continuously in a never ending cycle of origins taking shape and form. It was the archive that every mage wished to reach and observe, giving them the knowledge of all of creation from the beginning, to the end.
Though it was a powerful force that was equivalent to an omnipotent and omniscience god, it didn't have a sentient will of its own. It was like a supercomputer without a prime directive to truly direct it. After all, it was only there to tie creation together and document everything that takes place or ever will take place.
And so, the effort to reach the root will be a goal that all magi will strive for. Only until the last magi perishes and magic completely disappears from the world will the quest for the Root end.
But until that time came, it will continue to monitor all possibilities for as long as it exists.
Boots fluttered across the ground as a young man with blue hair and narrow eyes walked through the pristine hallways of a large stone castle. Dressed in a royal white vest and sleek black pants, he gave off the impression of a soldier who was going to meet his commanding officer.
And indeed, that was most certainly the case.
Arriving at a wooden door, he casually opened it to reveal a patio atop one of the highest towers in the castle. It was night time, but the darkness was illuminated by the numerous candles that have recently been lit. The stars hung above him in the night sky, showing off the heavens which humanity has begun attempting to reach.
But he wasn't here to admire the view. He was here to announce a report.
"Milord... It seems our plan has succeeded."
He spoke into what seemed to be a vacant patio, but a heavy voice responded back to him from the darkness not illuminated by the candles.
"Most excellent. Your thoughtful planning has borne fruit."
From the darkness, a man wearing black robes with golden accents sipped from his wineglass as he sat upon a leather chair while overlooking the landscape below. Even if it was pitch dark out, he was still able to enjoy the scenery without the bright light to illuminate the majestic scene.
"You have played your role well," The man spoke as he stood up, gently placing the glass on a small table next to him and turning towards the blue-haired man. "Master Darnic."
"Please, I am not worthy to be called a master from the great hero of Romania," The man humbly bowed. "Though it is an incredible honor, Vlad The Third."
Vlad Tepes the Third, the great hero of Romania. While he was known for being one of the most feared individuals in history due to the historical event of him piercing the bodies of thousands of soldiers, he was considered a great hero in Romania. Due to his fame, he was surely a top-leveled servant with very few equals.
"Nonsense. Our fates are intwine, you and I. You may refer to me by the title of lord, but I am still a servant who participates in the battle for the Holy Grail." Vlad crossed his arms and leaned backwards against the back of the chair. "You, my acting master, are the one whom I pledge my allegiance to. Remember that."
Darnic was silent for a moment before nodding. "I understand."
Satisfied, the Prince of Wallachia returned back to the front of his seat and sat down. "Good. Now then, what are the details regarding the response of the clocktower?"
"It's exactly as expected. They have already begun to mobilize and should be here within the next few weeks to oppose us with their own faction." Darnic said with a small smirk, having expected the Mage's Association to quickly respond. Once publicly announcing that his family, Yggdmillenia, was seceding from the Clocktower, it has been seen as the greatest insult their family could have ever produced. As such, the Church sent many mages to attack the family in the hopes of leaving behind an example for others who would dare to oppose them.
Unluckily for them, the Yggdmillenia have already come prepared. After all, they would never risk incurring the wrath of the association without a surefire way to fight back.
The force of 50 magi, sent to eliminate the entirety of the family, had been utterly destroyed without a single trace by none other than Vlad himself. Utilizing his noble phantasm, the manifestation of a hero's legend, he impaled all but one single magus alive. In a desperate act at being confronted by a being several magnitudes higher than anyone in the modern era, the magus had managed to unlock the reserve systems that laid dormant within the grail before being captured. This operation, while a failure in a sense, had given the Mages their own opportunity to summon seven of their own servants to oppose them.
The usual seven servants of the grail war were now doubled to 14. A Great War unlike any other before it.
However, this had been the Yggdmillenia's plan all along.
"These mages worked faster than I had initially thought. Are the catalysts gathered and accounted for? I wish for the summoning of my allies to begin tonight."
"They are ready. However, we had a little bit of difficulty in the case of my granddaughter Fiore." He said with a small tone of discontent, something that didn't go unnoticed.
"Difficulty?"
"Indeed. The catalyst I had intended to get her was tied to the legendary hero Chiron, who had died from a poisoned arrow from one of his students."
"The teacher of many heroes? I see... You intended to summon a great tactician. A wise move." Vlad praised despite the circumstances.
"I thank you. The great teacher would have been an excellent servant to have amongst our forces. However, the magus whom I had intended to get the catalyst from had decided to bail out on the last second and took the catalyst with him. Due to the circumstances, I was forced to quickly find another relic to replace it."
"And did you find one?"
Darnic nodded. "Yes... It's a piece of ancient snake skin which had been shed long ago. However, I do not know exactly which type of hero it was tied to. For all we know, it might not even be related to any hero at all."
Vlad stroked his beard. "I see... That is quite unfortunate. However, it should be of no problem. Appropriate catalysts have been given to the other masters who will be participating. Under my leadership, it doesn't matter what kind of heroic spirit answers the call. I shall make them my ally, whether they like it or not."
"Very well then," Darnic nodded, acceptable to such claims. After all, the military exploits of Vlad the Third was second to none. His skills as a king who exceeds in warfare will certainly be able to earn the respect of the other heroes. "We can begin whenever you are ready."
"Then we shall begin now," Vlad declared as he stood up and began walking towards the door. "I cannot help but feel excited to see the new heroes who will be with us for the duration of this war."
Being a prodigy in the art of magecraft wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.
As a prodigy, it came with an entire bag of responsibilities that most people would find bothersome or too tiring. Those who were prodigies were mostly those who would most certainly be the next in line to inherit the head of their magical family. As such, they often became the target of assassination attempts from other rival magic families.
And now she, Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, would inherit the head seat of her family upon the wishes of her grandfather Darnic.
The girl bound to her wheelchair sighed as she examined the small oak box in her lap. Like the other Yggdmillenia, she wore the pristine white vestments and garbs that had become a symbol of the power. However, unlike the others, she hardly looked threatening at all due to the fact that she was bound to a wheelchair.
Still, that was all the more reason she worked hard in her magecraft. In time, even she became known in many places due to her impressive achievements in her field and talents. People may still underestimate her due to begin a cripple, but she never minded them. After all, she just continued to better herself in preparation for taking over the family.
Even so, it was quite a lot of work for her to inherit at such a young age. She'd often get slightly nervous thinking about it, but would often quell those thoughts inside of her. After all, a magus could never show weakness. To do so would be a grave dishonor to her family name and her pride as a magus.
A knock at her door brought her out of her silent thoughts. "Come in."
As it opened, a young man with glasses and a slightly awkward look came in. Wrapped up under his arm was a scroll of some sort with the words 'The Perfect Human' scribbled messily on the back.
Although it may not look like it, the boy was her younger brother by a few months, a fact that she constantly reminded him about. Despite this, people would often mistake him for the older sibling due to his more roughish and older personality.
She smiled at her younger brother. "Good evening Caules."
"You too, sis." He nodded in response. "Grandfather has called for all the masters to gather in the throne room."
"He plans to summon our servants tonight?"
"Yeah... Better time than any other I guess."
"I see," She murmured, staring at the small box in her lap. "Very well then. Let us be off. It wouldn't do to keep grandfather waiting."
Caules was silent for a moment before pointing towards the box. "You're not unsatisfied with your catalyst are you?"
"Unsatisfied? Why would I? You were the one who picked it after all. I'm simply curious as to which heroic spirit this corresponds to." Fiore reassured him with a smile. "I can't think of many legends regarding snake skin. Medusa is the only one who comes to mind, but I somehow doubt that."
"Huh... I guess," Caules muttered, pushing his glasses back up. "Well... Then we'll simply find out at the ceremony."
"Mmm," Fiore hummed as she begun wheeling out of the room, her wheels making a small creaking sound. "We shall indeed."
"I thank you all for coming here tonight." Vlad greeted as the masters convened within the room. "Have all of you brought your intended catalysts?"
"Yes." Resounded across the room as all the masters spoke at once. This had been carefully rehearsed in their heads as Darnic himself was present at this meeting. While it may seem petty, the family head was very strict on discipline and attention to detail. He had been a soldier in Nazi Germany after all, and the slightest screw up could result in punishment.
The other masters, Celenike, Gordes, Caules, and herself were handpicked by Darnic himself based on their compatibility with his plan to ensure success. Gordes, a portly man, was an excellent alchemist who created many of the Homunculi that served in the castle. Celenike, a slightly older woman, was an expert in torture and black magic. And last, but not least, was her brother Caules. Unlike the others, there wasn't anything too remarkable about him. He knew the basics about magecraft, but that was pretty much it. Honestly, she didn't even know why he was picked to be a master."
"Excellent. Then we shall start as soon as possible."
Suddenly, the doors opened and a young boy with orange hair and a simple white shirt lumbered into the room out of breath. Straightening himself up, the young boy gave off a smile.
"I made it!"
"Oh? You've come out of your workshop, Roche?" Darnic called out with a small smile, though it wasn't one of warmth. "I would have thought that your teacher would have needed help with the golems."
The kid shrugged, obviously oblivious to what could have possibly been a threat. "Well... He said he was going to come as well. He just sent me along so I could get an early start. Is that wrong?"
Darnic looked like he was about to say something, but Vlad quickly cut in. "No, it is fine. It is rare for you to even come out of your workshop. And besides, this will be the second opportunity for you to see the summoning of heroes. Most people don't even get to see it a single time."
"Sweet! So if you don't mind... I'm going to be by the sidelines."
Darnic's face slightly twitched in exasperation before sighing. "Fine. Just do not get in the way of the ritual."
With a small salute, the young golem maker stepped off into the sidelines along with the other homonculi who were stationed as backup incase the servants decided to turn against them.
"Now then... Let us begin with the ceremony. Please place your artifacts inside the magic circle." Vlad ordered. At his request, the masters stepped forward and placed their respective artifacts on the magic circle on the ground before stepping back in unison. No command was needed. They knew what they had to do.
Over by the side, a figure appeared in a shimmer of blue dust. The figure, most likely a man, wore a golden helmet that covered his face and a blue robe that covered his entire body. Not a single piece of skin was shown, completely hiding what he truly looked like underneath.
He was the Caster of Black: Solomon ibn Gabriol. A master golem maker who was the founder of Kabbalah. He had been summoned several weeks prior due to preparations for creating a golem army for the Yggdmillenia.
"You came, Master!" Roche exclaimed gleefully as he joined the Caster servant, who nodded silently. Even in the weeks he had been here, not many have actually heard him speak before. Mostly due to the fact that he's usually shut inside his workshop like Roche.
But now that everyone of importance was here, the ritual designed for the summoning of heroic spirits can begin.
And like that, they begun their chant.
The air in the throne room changed again. The senses of the four Masters sharpened, so that even the pressure of the Impaling Prince watching them from behind was pushed aside for the time being.
It is true that the summoning of a Servant is simpler than the complications of a normal greater ritual. However, it is a clear truth that the ultimate mystery of summoning a Heroic Spirit is something that can take one's life if performed incorrectly.
One cannot charge forward recklessly, but inching forward and confirming the safety of every step is also the act of a fool. What is needed now is cold-heartedness and boldness - being able to point the barrel at your own head and pull the trigger swiftly.
"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let black 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."
They had not rehearsed this beforehand, of course, but they all spoke the incantation in harmony without a single word out of place.
With the first verse complete, the glow of the magic ward swelled. The raging prana trampled and assaulted them. But even Caules, the lowliest of the four, stood firm and continued the incantation without hesitation.
"Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."
The incantation - the prana that now races within their Magic Circuits - is calling for Heroic Spirits from their Throne. It appeals to the greatest of beings whose existence is carved in myths and legends.
"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."
Three of the Masters paused at this precise moment. Only Caules, watching for this opening, continued with another verse.
"Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos. For you would be one caged in madness. I shall wield your chains."
The additional incantation for Mad Enhancement - with this, it is certain that the Servant he summons will be afflicted by madness to some degree. A weaker Servant will acquire the tenacious physical capabilities of a Berserker.
And now, the last verse.
Despite the torment of their rampaging circuits and the fear that they would run out of control, the four could feel some regret if only for an instant; that was the degree of exaltation they felt during this ritual. However, they continued regardless - to tightly grasp in their hands the greatest mystery of all.
Uncommon monsters flowing with light, brimming with miracles, and surpassing thaumaturgy - in other words, Heroic Spirits, were attempting to enter their world.
"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"
At the same time as these words were spoken, the raging storm made the homunculi cower in panic, and Roche covered his face with his hands. Lancer, Darnic and Caster let it wash over them like a cool breeze.
And so, they manifested.
There is a blinding light coming from the complex and elaborately drawn magic ward. It only took a moment for miracles to take form. They were heroes, taking the phantasms of men as their own flesh, humans who reached inhuman heights.
The storm became a whisper, and the blinding light dimmed and faded. There are four figures standing within the circle.
One is a petite girl in a white dress. In her hand, a giant mace. With empty eyes, she slowly looked at her surroundings.
One is a androgynous-looking boy, fancily dressed. Out of the four, only he is looking at the Masters with a wide smile on his face.
One is another man whose entire body was encased in radiant armor. A greatsword is on his back. His silver-grey hair waved gently in the wind.
And the last one was a bright man decorated with golden armor who stood with his arms crossed. Behind his back were a set of golden blades, each big enough to be considered a two-handed sword. His eyes were red and piercing, though they were also very judging. It signaled not only the sign of a warrior, but the sign of a king as well.
"Ahh..."
There was a sound of wonder from someone in the room. Even Darnic's eyes were stolen by their majestic appearance. As thus, the Servants spoke the words of the beginning as one - the words which would uncover the muzzles to this fierce Great Holy Grail War of seven versus seven.
"In accordance to the summons, we present ourselves - the Servants of Black. Our fates shall be with Yggdmillennia, and our swords shall be as your swords."
The room was dead silent and for a moment, nobody dared to move. Not even Darnic and Vlad themselves, though they just seemed more curious than actually afraid or nervous. Everyone else on the other hand, couldn't help but be frozen in place by the overwhelming aura that has just filled the entire room.
That is, until one of the servants decided to speak.
"Ah, should we introduce ourselves first? We should, shouldn't we? I'll start! I am Servant Rider and my name is Astolfo! What about you guys?"
Now that completely surprised everyone. It was one thing to hide your identity from everyone, even your master, but to expose it so casually? That was certainly a deathwish for servants who participated in the war. A name corresponds to the legend of said hero, which most certainly had information on how to best kill said hero. As such, keeping the name of a servant hidden was of the utmost importance.
However, the paladin of charlamenge didn't seem to care. After all, there weren't really any prime weakness one could abuse to defeat him. Such is the type of servant he was.
"Astolfo," Celenike scowled, obviously displeased. "Don't blurt out your name so casually like that."
The paladin cocked his head, seemingly just realizing the fact that he just dropped a valuable piece of information. "Oh... right. Though does it really matter? I mean, aren't we supposed to be a tea- Woah!"
He was suddenly brushed aside by the golden servant as he walked towards the center of the circle where all of the catalysts were placed. Without a single world, he examined them all before stopping at the oak box Fiore had put down. Reaching down, he opened the box and pulled out the snakeskin before turning to the masters with a blank look.
"Which of you summoned me with this?"
Looking around, Fiore noticed that everyone had begun to subconsciously inch away from her. Even the newly summoned servants looked tense as they stared at the golden servant. Whoever he was, he was no doubt a powerful servant. The pressure he was generating on his own was making the Homunculi in the room quiver in their boots.
And for some reason... She felt her body being compelled to move on its own. Despite the tension in the room, her meek arm found itself in the air, drawing the man's attention.
"I see... This snake still causes me trouble even after death," The man grumbled as he carelessly tossed the snake skin behind him and approached her. "You don't look like much in that wheelchair of yours. Do you even have the conviction to command me, the greatest of all heroic spirits?"
The next head of the clan suddenly felt very small compared to the man who was supposed to be her servant. Making a boast that one was the strongest heroic spirit was madness, but there was absolutely no sense of such in the man's eyes. What he said was something he must have total belief in.
So obviously this man would do something if she didn't respond clear enough. From the looks of it, he reminded her of the high-class mages of the clocktower who only respect skill and strength. However, this was a heroic spirit. They weren't like ordinary humans. One stutter, one show of weakness, would most likely be enough for him to denounce her as his master.
Instinctively, her right hand tightened against the seat of her wheelchair. It may have been a futile gesture, but the device she wore on her right arm was something she had developed by herself. It was actually a mystic code that was so powerful it could allow a third-rate magus to defeat a first-class one. Still, it was practically useless against the superhuman reactions of a servant.
But on the other hand... She had her command seals.
They were a set of three seals that allows the master to give three absolute orders to their servant. Thanks to them, it deters the servant from attempting to kill their master.
But... could she even attempt to utilize one? The distance between them was miniscule. It wouldn't take much for him to cleave her in half or snap her neck upon sensing the prana flare from a command spell. At this point, using her mystic code would actually be way better.
"Well? I'm waiting for a response, woman."
"That is enough, Golden servant." Vlad spoke, having stood up from his throne. "Do you intend to start trouble with your allies?"
The man snorted and turned towards Vlad with an unimpressed look. "I only seek to judge if she is worthy to be my master. I did not come back from the grave to answer the call of an inept master. Such a thing would be a waste of my time."
"Threatening her with your blade is out of hand, golden servant. If you continue to cause trouble I shall have to discipline you. This is my palace. Do not destroy it out of some petty vendetta for your master."
The man's eyes narrowed and his right hand started drifting towards one of the golden swords on his back. "Your castle? That means nothing to me. If you so insist on moving against me before I finish my judgement, I won't hesitate to-"
Everyone gasped and the man suddenly froze as a series of clanking sounds resounded across the room. Turning back towards Fiore, he found himself staring down the barrel of what seemed to be a cannon that was attached to her right arm. Stunned by the sudden action, the man could only blink as his face was blasted by an explosion of prana which sent him flying backwards through a wall..
"Oh my god!"
"She's crazy!"
Mumbles rose up across the room as everyone stared at Fiore in shock. Even Darnic himself looked absolutely surprised by these turn of events.
For a moment, nobody even dared to move as the bronze link manipulator on Fiore's arm morphed itself back to her regular arm. Releasing a breath she didn't know she had been holding, she suddenly felt the eyes of everyone on her.
"Fiore... What have you just done?" Darnic asked, though she couldn't tell if there was anger in his voice. It was very weird that way.
"Homunculi! Battle positions! Stop standing like idiots and grab your weapons!" Gordes called out frantically before turning to the white knight with the large great sword on his back. "You too, saber! Defend me!"
Without a word, the man drew his sword and stepped in front of Gordes. The other servants did so as well, standing in front of their respective masters with their weapons drawn.
"S-sis... Did you actually kill him?" Caules asked, looking at his sister with fear in his eyes.
"I don't know..." Fiore muttered, obviously a little bit shocked at what she had just done as well. Did she actually kill her servant? Did she ruin her chance to be able to fulfill her wish and-
"No, I'm fine. I could have hurt my back though."
Stepping out of the wreckage of the wall, the servant looked completely unharmed. In fact, he seemed incredibly pleased for some reason if the smile on his face was of any indication.
"Truly a bold move... I would not have guessed you would have attempted to strike me when my guard was down. Well played, Master."
Fiore froze. "Master? So... does that mean-"
"Indeed! You have proven yourself worthy to handle the power of the king! Rest assured, this battle has already been one! Our faction will triumph and the grail will be yours!" He swept his hand out in a grand manner, an arrogant laugh escaping from his throat. "Listen well my allies! You stand in the presence of a true hero! One who stands in the heavens! I am the first of your kind, the canvas from which you all derived from!"
The room shook, and the pressure around the man increased a hundredfold. He radiated the aura of a king so strong, not even Vlad himself looked to be unaffected as he straightened in his seat with his eyes narrowing.
"I am the King of Heroes... Gilgamesh! With my strength which terrified the gods... I shall lead you all to victory!"
And that's the end of the first chapter. The prologue, if you will.
Anyway, just to make things a little bit clear, this Gilgamesh isn't the arrogant one like in Fate Stay Night. Don't get me wrong, he's still arrogant, but the key difference between him and his fate stay night version is the fact that he can see the beauty in humanity instead of judging them simply by how useful they were to him and their individual worth. In short, this is him after the death of Enkidu and failing to retrieve the herb of immortality for himself. Kind of like the caster version of him.
Of course, he will still be very haughty and arrogant due to being an incredible heroic spirit, but he will acknowledge the existence of other heroic spirits and will be more inclined to take them seriously. Especially with a certain indian demigod in the war *hint*hint*.
So if you enjoy this chapter, please make sure to review for any opinions you may have! A fav also helps as well!
And like that, I'll see you in the next chapter!